One Winter’s Night

To The Lady on the Train, 

The stars are a disco ball; our moon, a red neon sign. The tracks on her soul are runway lights to a heaven, headache, and heartache. 

Sometimes the scars from our youth do not allow us to see the bloom of beauty in the adult we become. 

So we are turning and whirling and the night air is chill. But her body is warm and that will have to do tonight. 

There’s no way to tell if we’re on the train to redemption or ruin and only time will tell. So it’s 90 miles an hour to speed through this night. I pray we chase each other’s nightmares away and the morning is not too far away. 

Whatever will happen, come what may. And tomorrow brings another night. 

The Man in the Station