Last Train Home

The last train rattles down the elevated track,

Leaving only wind to fill the empty space.

I trace my finger on the condensation glass,

Trying to recall the outline of your face.

A forgotten umbrella leans against the wall,

Dusty static buzzing from the radio line.

I keep replaying every quiet,

broken word, Wishing I could turn back all the hands of time.

If I send my wish into the fading starry sky,

Will the night breeze carry it to where you sleep?

We were written like a song upon a turning page,

Now it’s just a secret that I have to keep.

The traffic lights flicker from a brilliant red to green,

Reflecting off the asphalt like a ocean stream.

I’m still standing here alone inside the quiet dark,

Chasing after ghosts of an abandoned dream.

Your old ticket stub is tucked inside my pocket book,

Fading softly like the

pictures on my phone.

I step into the quiet of the midnight air,

Walking down the sidewalk on my way back home.

You used to tell me that the stars would never lie,

Guiding us whenever we were far apart.

So why am I still searching through the endless clouds,

Trying to repair a broken,

heavy heart?

The world moves forward while I’m frozen in the past,

A single frozen frame

inside a silent room.

I listen close to hear the echo of your voice,

Fading like the shadows under winter’s moon.

The

morning light begins to break through shades of grey.

I tighten up my coat against the chilly breeze.

Goodbye to all the gentle words we left unsaid...

Drifting through the quiet

of the winter trees.