A Station Bench

Empty station. A train from the City leaving.
Not a soul is there. Just you and me.
Arm in arm and hand in hand,
We weave our way to the other platform.

A station bench, cold, hard and unforgiving.
But you are soft and warm, leaning against me.
Sweet togetherness, eyes trained ahead of us,
You rest your head on mine.

What thoughts ran through your head that night?
Did you share them then with me?
I listened, but words are since forgotten.
Our train arrives. A moment lost forever.

© Emily Page

7 thoughts on “A Station Bench

  1. Ah this is lovely and – bar the last line – very positive! A beautiful moment can never be lost forever when it’s captured so well. xx

    • Ha ha! My poetic style is probably influenced by watching / reading far too many such epics – head in the clouds ‘n all that! My favourite teenage read was The Thorn Birds for goodness sake. I’m a lost cause😀 Glad you enjoyed reading and always a pleasure to join in with #Prose4T my friend x

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