The Platform

It's quiet on the platform

The train is out of sight

I hear its horn no more though

It rang across the night

The sun is coming out now

All I hear is bird song

I swallow past a lump

But forward now I go.

What might the world be like

No longer behind glass

Now everything moves slower

And I can smell the grass

The only ones I spoke with

Were those riding with me

But what might change when I just

Speak past what's in my head

The train is memory but

I've stepped into the sun

I don't know what awaits but

I know I'm not alone.