The platform is cold, Numbingly uncomfortable, The 15:03 train is delayed,
Good. I would rather wait in the bitter cold Than return to reality. It finally arrives, Sighing as its engines Relinquish all strength It has to carry on.
I chose the longest journey to London, Every stop, Every pause in tine that I can temper Linger in. The fatigue may settle And my hands may quiver, But the memories of this week Are irrevocable, Laughter, Friends, Alcohol, It was bliss to say the least, But all good things must come to an end.
There is still the journey through the underground, Maybe I could lose myself in a sea of commuters And culture? The urban rebels And buzz of tourists who yearn for adventure?
The only thing that propels me To step off the platform in the first place Is the thought of ending up in his arms By the end of the evening.