The 2.40… #Poetry

 

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Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay

 

My father, a staunch academic that never flaps.

At breakfast, I met a stranger at the table

He spoke at a speed I had never heard before

I could see a hint of panic in his eyes.

He didn’t ask, so much as forbid me

to take the 2.40 train from Paddington.

Asking why his voice became calmer

I don’t know if you have heard this story

Or remember it from the newspapers

One year ago, a young man just turned eighteen

died on that train in the third carriage

It’s said he may return on the anniversary of his death

To sit in the same seat for three weeks

In the hope of finding the part of self

we all leave behind on being born.

He waits for the other half, the missing piece

To sit on the seat opposite the door.

When the right person takes that seat

He becomes whole, having entered the sitter.

There are many tales of what takes place next

You have just turned eighteen, I am asking you please,

Take the earlier train to your next job?

Seeing how much this meant to my father

I agreed, and kissing his cheek, I left for work

I felt a little odd approaching the station

Standing close to the edge of the platform

I waited that afternoon for the 2.40.

I remember asking my father why I couldn’t just

Take my journey in the second car

Father said it was best to avoid the 2.40 all together

As curiosity gets the best of some people.

I could hear the train approaching

I stood where the third car would stop

I could see a grey outline of someone sitting

in the seat Father mentioned

There were no discernible features to this mass

Shaking my head, thinking my father’s story

Must have gotten into my mind

I felt a connection, a longing, something remembered

I remembered my father saying that a soul mate

Was not someone you search for in life

It’s the missing part of self.

I knew what this meant, for I had often felt

Lost lonely unsure even when falling

in love with a boy from College

A few minutes of happiness that doesn’t last

Leaving me with the feeling of being unwhole.

Now that I have felt that missing part

I would break my word

I will sit in that seat tomorrow at 2.40

Let the missing part enter

See what life will bring…

©anitadawes 2020

From the Platform… #Poetry

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

I stood on the platform thinking

about the film, ‘sliding doors’

Having missed my train

What else might I have missed?

A handsome stranger with green eyes

Smiling at me

Before the train reaches its destination

Had he asked for my number?

Not likely, I’d be squashed

between two sweaty oiks

Finally reaching work, late

I was expecting a black look from the boss

No black looks, my fantasy from the platform

Having stepped in for the day

Stood smiling at me

I hoped by the end of this day

he would ask for my number

I need those emerald eyes to do more

than just smile at me…

©anitadawes

The Train… #Poetry

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Image by Pixabay.com

I forgot to move; my limbs frozen

The level crossing was up

Clear for all to reach the other side

Yet a train was speeding towards me

I could hear people screaming

For God’s sake, run!

I thought I must be dreaming

As the sound drew nearer

Suddenly I felt my body crashing to the floor

Somebody’s arms around my waist

I looked into his blue eyes

A hero I knew I would marry…

                                ©anitadawes