Train Platform

I feel small climbing the stairs
to the elevated track
stepping over broken ketchup packets
french fry wrappers
kids’ litter dropped by
catburglers who
steal scenery. Is my
train coming?

Yet there’s a foolish gal
who built a house nearby
who endures the clickety-clack for me
gives me solace, for
with the sun at my back
my shadow’s on her roof, but then

to let the sun climb with me
the morning clouds do stay away
on many days of huff and puff

In Spring at last
I last until
my shadow’s on her door

Tomorrow I shall be her Sun
who crosses streets to knock

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