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Poetry: Whole

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Paddington Station

I saw him sat there on the train,
all briefcase and smart suit.
Coherent words flew my pickled brain
leaving me totally mute.

I saw him one week later,
same station, same train, same time.
Although I felt much fainter,
I wanted to make him mine.

I took that train again each day
and smiled as our eyes met.
Every time went the exact same way,
unable to talk just yet.

Eventually we shared the seat
and chatted like old friends.
It felt like we were meant to meet
but every journey ends.

The last time that I saw him there
a gleam never left his eye.
As our sparks flew through stale air
there was nothing but him and I.

Although I never knew his name,
I saw his very soul.
And though I no longer take that train,
his memory makes me whole.

Learn more about this author, Laura-Claire Wales.
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