At the Station

I have to go –

The air outside is getting cold and lonely;

I hear the call

Of somewhere ineffably remote; the doors of glass

Have closed

/

What you may have to say

No longer matters – I’ve unlearned to listen,

To speak, to touch, to love, to hope

To miss this that I never held but an illusion of,

Fragile and fleeting

/

The train

Is quickly gaining speed, like fire

Flying,

Flying,

Flying;

/

Snow flakes –

My tiny frozen dreams – are falling lower

Down,

Down,

Down

/

I will not see them

Settle on the barren winter ground; watch them

For me, while I am gone,

Gone,

Gone