Waiting for the train.
There is none.
Here I stand with many other passengers.
They shuffle to the dangerous yellow edge
Looking over the precipice
For a train that isn’t there.
I hear the crinkle of an empty water bottle.
We’ve drank all the water
And now I’m getting thirsty
Waiting for a train that isn’t there.
I wonder if I should I take out my book to pass the time
Or remain here present
Soaking up all the negativity around me
Manifesting into the pain that is slowly creeping its way into the back of my right knee
It reminds me of the pain I felt the day my grandmother died
Wondering what the pain meant
In the same way I wonder
Where this missing train is
As we wait