A Serious Piece: Her Journey

She lingers at the station on her seat
she shivers, wrapped in coat and knitted shawl.
The train arrives, she shuffles to her feet
I watch her, fearing faltering or fall.

I see her brittle figure on the train
and as the seasons pass, she seems to fade;
some strangers stand, alerted and humane
in case she reaches out for arm or aid.

One day we wait and still no train arrives;
the crackled speaker voices growl “delay.”
Her watchful eyes are glimmering, alive;
I take her arm. “Let’s go by cab today.”

I ask her why she journeys back and forth;
she tells me that her Love is very ill.
“The hospital is twenty minutes north,
but while I can still reach him there, I will.”

From that day on, I smile to see her there.
I share my small umbrella in the rain.
And then, one day, her station bench is bare;
I pray that I may see her face again.

It’s months until I spy her, o’er the line.
I rush to tell her “north’s the other way.”
Her slender fingers, cold, reach up for mine.
She meets my eyes. “I’m going south today.”

She tells me that the hospice rang to say
her soulmate—her most precious Love—was dead.
“I still make sure I speak with him each day—
but now it’s at his resting place instead.”

walking-69709_640 - Copy

Image from Pixabay © PublicDomainPictures 2012

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37 thoughts on “A Serious Piece: Her Journey

  1. There’s something in the air. Et tu, Robbie? This is a gorgeous piece. Humorists, including poetic humorists, understand the depths of humanity in ways that not everyone understands or expects. Well done, my friend! This is one that I’ll think about for many years to come.

    Liked by 1 person

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