The boy pressed his palm on the glass,

It seemed warm against the hand of his father,

Who stood on the platform,

Looking at the face of his son,

Perhaps for the last time.

Be well! he shouted

Look after mama!

His son called back but he heard no words,

But understood as thin arms crossed a chest,

Heaving with sobs.

The man could not bear to think

He would never hold that small body again,

Never lift it onto his shoulders

Never see it grow.

His pretence of bravery,

Conjured by his smile,

Deserted him as the train lurched forward,

Then stopped cruelly,

Revealing the desperation in his heart.

He swallowed his tears

And shouted again,

Goodbye my boy!

There was no respite this time,

The carriage accelerated away,

Taking his son to a new life,

A new history.