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He always hated Tuesdays on the train There was no way he couldn’t steal a glance; Her image was implanted in his brain, He felt despair, though he fought for a chance. Till one morning she caught his wan’dring eye And moved over to the adjacent seat. Her hand was moving closer to his thigh; He thought that his game was almost complete. He followed her out when the train had stopped, Dreams of the past week were now coming true They climbed the stairs while other people shopped Then alone he rode the train home at two The young man just had the time of his life But now thought only of what to tell his wife.
0
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
The Train
He always hated Tuesdays on the train There was no way he couldn’t steal a glance; Her image was implanted in his brain, He felt despair, though he fought for a chance. Till one morning she caught his wan’dring eye And moved over to the adjacent seat. Her hand was moving closer to his thigh; He thought that his game was almost complete. He followed her out when the train had stopped, Dreams of the past week were now coming true They climbed the stairs while other people shopped Then alone he rode the train home at two The young man just had the time of his life But now thought only of what to tell his wife.
howard-day
Written by
American
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
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