Don’t Pass Her By

The day dull done, the sorry sky turns grey.
The crowded commuters have nothing to say.
The train track traversing, a clickity-clack.
My course set straight, seems no turning back.

My station arrives and as I rise then to leave,
I see her awaiting and I struggle to breathe.
Her beauty bedazzles, I dream what I might –
then leave as she enters, ships pass in the night.

As another dull day’s over, I lie lonesome in bed.
Tall tales of what won’t be turn tricks in my head.
Her skin porcelain; her hair luscious, long black.
If we were “We”, would I finally find what I lack?

Another day rises, runs whether I like it or not.
The hours slowly strike, I wish each be forgot.
I rush to the station, stand tall on the train.
Wondering whether I will see her again.

The journey jangles, I’m rocked back and forth,
the train track takes me from South to the North.
As I arrive I see her, a beauty shining so bright!
Still I leave as she enters, ships pass in the night.

I’d say “I’m home” but there’s no-one to care.
The meal ready for one, the table, bare chair.
The silence suffocates, so I play make believe.
If she were with me, what wonders we’d weave!

Tomorrow turns to today, it runs much the same.
Will she be there? Will I dare ask her her name?
But when I see her, I feel lost, little, weak.
I open my mouth but know not what to speak.

And so once again I leave, rise and go.
Turn to see her waving through the window.
The train pulls away yet I feel brief delight.
She leaves, I go. Row you ships in the night.

I lie longing lonely home here in the dark.
The next day arises with song of the lark.
Today is the day – today I’ll try to try!
I’ll say…something! I won’t pass her by!

The office ordinary, my work most mundane.
Well, will I see her, will she be there again?
Boss condescending, rehearsed reply contrite.
No more we’ll pass by like ships in the night!

Daylight descends, my heart skips a beat.
I run to the train down a familiar street.
I sit on train breathless, the carriage is bare.
My station arrives, I don’t see her there.

I close my eyes – feeling too tired to stand.
My station waves with mournfully moving hand.
Then I hear her hail “Hi, is this seat still free?”
My reply “Yes!” and she sits so close to me.