It is six sharp. The sun lulls itself to sleep,
and I am waiting by the floating tracks
like I always do.
I know it is coming when I hear the grunts
of steel from afar. With one billowing
arm, the train greets me and slows
to a sigh.
You are seated at the same quiet corner
as yesterday, the only place we may meet.
You show me a smile before we
sail toward the stars,
past hamlets nestled between letter Ms,
and heavy clouds that weep Os
and oh – the train has slowed
to a stop.
Once more, you bid me farewell
from the warmth of your cabin
and as the clock strikes twelve I watch
you sink into the borders of tomorrow.
