His eyes implied, as he placed his hand on the windowsill, same as mine.
Just resting on the other side of a sheet of glass.
Much stood between the two of us.
Though back in time there was no distance which could separate our minds.
Once torn away, how did my pain reflect the same, inside and out?
How did our moment slip away like the quiet night?
My attempts in vain to remove the stain of the sacred heart.
His departing train which waivers in the snows embrace.
And bears my hopes for us away, into the dawn. Into the garish light of day.
I wait for him in the station stained with falling snow.
Until the time has stripped away the bitter cold.
And only memory remains, to find my hand and gently hold.