In a nearly abandoned train station not far from here

February 9, 2008
By Dillon McLean, Pittsford, NY

In a nearly abandoned train station not far from here
A line forms at the ticket window,
People, taking their places,
Ready to start the show.

At the front of platform one
A woman watches her child play.
He’s four or five, ready to fly
When the day he grows wings
Should choose to come.
She watches in delight,
A smile forming at the corners of her mouth
Whenever he falls down.
She keeps this pose until he gets back up,
Then tears begin to fall from glazed eyes.

While behind her, a man and
His brother sit together, reading the same book.
One began at the end, the other
Flips back to the start,
Even though he hasn’t even finished
Chapter Two.

A lone business man paces not far from the men,
A briefcase glued to his hand.
The lines etched into his forehead
For each day that he checked his watch,
Hoping to find the future moving just a bit
Faster than it can.

From the man, sitting against a wall, sat a woman.
A girl made dirty by the world. But clean
By her efforts to stay alive against the struggles
Of having no place to call a home.

Her only comfort, a young man who stops
To give her money.
To feed her and make her strong enough
To face another day of getting weaker.

All come and go,
Underneath a brilliant ticking clock
That reads aloud every 5 minutes.
Painfully the businessman realized it was 3 minutes slow.

And on the corner of the station
Is the only person who stays.
Day in, day out.
No matter the weather,
No matter the time.
Always waiting is
A wise old man
Quietly going blind.

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