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.