She stood on the cold windy station,
clutching a bright pink carnation.
But nobody came,
he was not on the train.
He said he’d come to meet her;
she dreamt how he would greet her.
But nobody came,
he was not on the train.
He was not on the train
and her mind was swirling.
He was not on the train –
and her thoughts just kept turning.
How could he leave her all alone?
She’d packed her bag,
set off and left home –
but now she doubted what she’d done,
as she stood on the cold windy station,
clutching a bright pink carnation,
in her shortest skirt and heels that hurt.
But nobody came, he was not on the train.
.
David Ward
.