Before the Train Comes
Sipping a burning cup of coffee,
I watch as the rain lazily drips
From the roof on to the tracks.
People stay huddled together
In the platform, waiting to leave
But still, dreading to move.
As the next train reaches the platform,
The mad rush to climb in
Tears me away from my thoughts.
But the time which stretches proudly
After a train leaves and before another comes
Seems endless, and dauntingly full of possibilities.
As I wait, watching the hurry people are in,
Scampering with luggage and children,
Frustration marring their faces,
I wonder why they were in such a hurry
That they missed out the thrill of waiting;
When you’re suspended between two worlds:
The one you will leave behind when your train comes.
I sit and wait, knowing my train was never going to arrive
And yet, sensing the tracks vibrating in anticipation of the next train,
I look up, desperately hoping it would take me away from this place.