Image by Rudy and Peter Skitterians from Pixabay 

As I carry her suitcase
across the platform
I see her steps slowing
down as if resisting
to leave the city
she calls home and
says 'boarded' and I see
her eyes looking outside
as if searching
for her soul that didn't
get on the coach yet
a horn blows like
crying 'it's time'
I have to tell her
she'll do just fine
as the engine yanked
and I get down I see
her through the window
drifting swiftly it's hard
to keep up with the pace
a cold tinted glass
between our palms
as bye-bye read her face

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