The Tunnel
by Anonymous
There is a stop
somewhere on this route,
where weather and people
cannot be cruel.
I know a girl
who lives there now-
though she paid more
than she should have
for her ticket.
I picture her there...
as in a photograph-
a bright contrast to the darkness
around her-captured in an instant.
She tilts her head
and grins, as people should,
at something sweet, and secret,
just for her.
And while I wish
and wonder what to do,
now that she's caught the
early train,
I find a silent solace in the thought,
perhaps she's saving a seat
for the rest of us.
Submit
a poem |