The Station
I see you there,
Across from me,
In a corner people's eyes seldom reach,
Two jaundice yellow globes part a matted sheet,
A patchwork tapestry of deception and despair,
Woven from a lonely soul,
I walk to you,
Driven by your fearless smile,
Yet daunted by your hollow stare,
"Spare some change for the train Sir?"
The train I fear follows a different line,
As the tracks run up his bony arms,
Pity sets in with the sound of falling coins,
On a cracked concrete floor
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