She dyed her hair
violet and blonde;
a shade of maroon waves through
her lips
pouting
with her head bent low

Wondering
how can this be?
And her eyes batter
with their lashes, they flatter

She looks on longingly
Waiting for the day
she returns home.

She picks up the phone
her only source of company
searching through her sea of friends
and she sees their faces

She sighs and wonders
How can this be?

She awaits the day she returns home
patiently
sitting there
like the beauty
she is created to be

What a sight to behold
though I have yet to know
her name

I look on, patiently
still waiting
for my train to arrive at my stop
waiting for when I can
go home.