A confession...

To The Lady on the Train,

I have a confession...

We spoke of our aging today. There was a sense of so much time already gone, so little left, and a fear that the best may have passed... Not fear of the future - nor regret for our pasts... but still a sense that things might have been so completely different... if only...

I made light of my wrinkles and greying beard - and these are truths that I cannot change. I looked across the desk and I looked at your face, your eyes... I followed the line of your shoulder and arms.. I followed my mind down your spine too... I looked at you and your smile and the dark shine in your eyes - and I wanted to say something to you.

I wanted to tell you that you are beautiful. Your beauty captured me when I first saw you - and you are even more beautiful now. And my confession is this: I want to be lucky enough to look upon your face through the years ahead of us. I will see your face wrinkled, your hair grey - and I will see your beauty shine...  And I will be filled... Yours is the face that I love.

I wish that you could know what I feel when I look at you. I wish there was a way for you to feel it too...

The Man in the Station