An approaching horn’s noise

deafens all who have ears.

The platform is shaking

with each feeble pebble

dancing on iron rails.


A woman on the edge,

decked head-to-toe in black;

a lavish purse, dangling,

its hue reminiscent

of her quivering lips.


Heels clacking, fidgeting

on the wooden floor,



What am I doing? Why?


A moment, a stillness;

seconds compressed in time.


A cloud of smoke rolls in.

fog as the train arrives.

God, forgive me ev’rything!

The black mist fades away,

dissipating slowly.


People shift in, shift out.

A red bag lies on the

edge of the platform, stepped

on by foot after foot.

The commotion ensues.


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