Splintered Tracks

One door closes, but another timeline stays open.

She stands alone in the downpour

Platform cold under silver heels

The steel door closes too soon

Lost in the hiss of the wheels

She steps inside from the platform

Sinking deep in the velvet seat

Heading home to her quiet room

Tracing the rhythm of the street

Both trains leaving, both lives running (one in the gold,

one in the grey)

Two parallel

roads in the dark of night One stays behind and one goes

away

Wet pavement, keys

in the lock

In an empty hall

where shadows play

Warm embers, turning the lock

Leaving all of the cold outside

At the top of the stair,

the keys align

Two different versions of the same design

Meeting at the very same door