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waiting at the train station for my man
Three women with umbrellas were waiting for this train.
To get on or for someone to get off? I am yet to know.
I lost track of them after the people disembarked.
Looking for my husband, who would not have an umbrella.
My umbrella was at home, I was not expecting this dreary night.
My man would not be the first one off, closer to the last.
I knew from experience, he avoided the crowds.
My smile was wide when I saw his excited look of recognition.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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