waiting for my train

very nostalgic day I had today, which inspired the following poem

a few months ago
I sat on the bench in the train terminal
I saw this woman and she was sweeping up
the floors of her hardship in yesterday’s dust.
people come in and go out without a clue
that her sore fingertips polishes
the railings that we hold on to.
I smiled when I saw her and she smiled back.
Our hearts sang the same songs.
this morning
I sat on the same bench in the train terminal
And I saw another woman in her place.
I miss my old friend, but her memory lives on.
when I sit on the bench waiting for my train to come

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