Smoke rises up above the sky. 

The train is coming. 

Clocks ticking, second by second. 

Each moment a new hour comes to its finale.

The sound of the horn billows through the air.

The train is coming,

Heading closer and closer by the minute.

I would leave the station,

But my ticket withholds my train’s arrival time,

So I am left waiting in anticipation.

Wheels trudge into the station.

Others get on, 

But I do not.

After all, it is not my train.

My train is coming.

Heart pounding with every arriving train,

I dread the forthcoming arrival of mine.

Outside the station, I never had any sense of satisfaction,

Yet I long to leave it

Just to taste the air one last time.

But even the air outside carries the sound of a horn.

Whether of my train or another, I do not know.

The forces of antagonism linger in the station’s windows,

Pounding their fists against the glass

At the sight of those boarding and those waiting.

Their presence chills my spine.

Their gaze haunts me like the smell of smoke above the sky.

Inside the station, it is lonely.

There is no one to comfort me.

So desperately I long for the physical comfort

Of a dear friend or loving relative

That I stretch out my hands even to passersby.

Not stopping to pay me any mind,

They walk on to board their trains.

Of all things, I only wish for happiness. 

The train is coming.

I can feel it.

But before the train arrives,

I just want to live with a sense of satisfaction.

So in this moment, as I turn to face the station’s entrance,

I have decided to face those antagonizing forces

Which lurk outside the station’s doors.

After all, it turns out you are my source of happiness.

Therefore, I must go to you before the train arrives.

In that same fleeting moment as I turned,

I saw you standing in the station’s doorway.

All we had to do now was pass the tracks,

And at last, our fingers would intertwine

As we deliver the kiss of kinship on each other’s cheeks

Full of forgiveness and affection.

Yet the smoke was present in the air heavier than before,

The sound of the horn blew its last

While the trudging of the wheels slowed to a halt,

And the clock’s hand hushed its ticking.

We were both too late to make our shared realization.

The train had arrived,

And I was obligated to board.

If only I had not come so early,

Would you have made me feel that missing sense of satisfaction

And feeling of happiness that

Above all I so longed to have?