I always missed my trains on purpose.
Never showed up
right in time.
Though always evied those,
countless passengers in line.
Aching for someone,
drowning in reverie.
Someone that could be there,
in the dark,
when clouds and rain
steal the sun’s last spark.
So I wait at the track,
stand in the back.
Watching the train pass,
without even trying to catch it.
A friendship is sometimes much more valuable than a love affair