'Next station is...'
His phone rang.
Once a name on his speed dial.
'Hello! Where are you? '
He was in the metro.
'Look behind you.'
He tried not to expect
as he turned.
And there she stood...
'How are you? ' she asked
the face she had known inside out.
He replied.
'How are you? ' she asked
a person, she would claim,
she knew all about.
He reaffirmed.
'How, really, are you? ' she ask
the friend she had lost,
in a different city.
The train would carry them
through the tunnel of limbo...
But the doors opened.
He had to get down at the 'next station...'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem