Wednesday, January 7, 2015

A new story

A new story,
I'm running late,
coffee in my hand,
my phone's busy.
I jump, I stumble,
run to the train.
The 7 o' clock,
I cannot miss it.
At the door,
an old lady steps out,
wrinkled and slow.
Impatient, I shout.
The lady smiles,
new lines form
her face softens,
makes me squirm.
I hop aboard,
the lady's still there,
waits for someone,
from somewhere.
The train moves on,
the editor calls,
“Where's your story?”
He gets no response.
I rest my head,
close my eyes,
I see the lady,
a new story.

- Eisha

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