I meet you daily at a train station around St. Cook’s,
today you wore that weary traveler look,
struggling to carry a backpack by its slender hook,
looking through a corner of my eye that you may have mistook.

Finding a seat by the window,
standing in front as I could see only your shadow,
offering to give you my place as though I did owe,
smiling almost to yourself,
yet choosing to forego.

Your name must have been the sky,
as your eyes were as blue,
just as the ocean reflecting the sky,
meeting you by chance and I don’t know why,
sadness in your eyes is not something I could allay,
load off your shoulder is all I could take away,
can’t do nothing more than wonder and pray.

Someday I will know you more on your journey faraway,
on this non-stop ride we choose to be on everyday.