The Girl on the Train (circa 2018)

When I roam this wintertime scene,

The snowflakes call me to remember.

When was it? January or December?

The train station I saw in a dream,

Surrounded in white and ice fractals.

There was a girl there.

 Sorrowful, her tears streamed,

Ones of that hellish breed.

I recall comforting her.

She thanked me, though I’m not exactly sure what she said.

She then told me that somebody was dead.

Empathetic, I expressed my remorse for who had passed,

And unaware that this meaning would be our last,

I offered her my number in hopes she would keep in touch.

Before I could, a man in uniform interrupted us.

“You must get off,” he says. “This journey is not yours.”

Obediently, I exited while sleet poured.

I awoke confused and depressed.

How fascinating it is to miss someone you never truly met.