Lingering In A Train Station Poem by Sophia White

Sitting in the station; waiting for the train
Shoes wet from leftover puddles
The vestiges of last night’s rain
Everyone walking past looks muddled
But I’m seeing so very clear
Clear-cut plan mapped out in mind
Gonna ride that train so far from here.

The two o’clock comes roaring in
Tickets flash as the whistle blares
Blurring past me go suited men
With inward, blank, and sullen stares
Not this one this isn’t mine
I’ll wait around a little more
I’ve got no money but I’ve got time.

The two thirty takes a short respite
And more rushing feet go by me
The platform’s crowded; space is tight
And no familiar faces that I can see.
The strangers come and go and fade
My memory can hold not a single face
The two thirty left, but still I stayed.

The day runs on, the trains run on
Dusk rolls in like a final breath
I pick up my coat and put it on
The night is cold and still as death.
One weak light flickers and gasps
From a tall post near the empty station’s end
And far down the line another train rasps.

It slowly, wearily screeches to the platform
Sighing like a great, tired beast
Within it’s depths, I spy a form
Vague and lovely and fast asleep.
I stand up in the lone light’s meager ray.
My bench, like an old friend,
Bids silent farewell as I ride away.