24th February Poem to a Girl on a Train

She sits and smiles
In her pale green jumper.
Then she tires,
And looks away.

From her dark hair,
Free-flowing and sweeping,
To her small warm hands,
The maiden lies there, sleeping.

A wooden medallion,
A circle of shine
Like her; it hangs from her neck
In a perfect straight line.

She is so still,
And looks not to care.
Oh it would be a thrill
Just to touch her.
[Or to sit opposite her forever].

She slumbers on
Sweet peaceful dreams.
Her soft smooth face
Holds no worries it seems.

Over her stomach
Her hands are crossed.
Her head lies far back ...
My heart has been lost.

Quickly now, yet soft also,
The train moves on at length.
The girl has cheeks; all aglow.
My mind has not got the strength

To keep concentrating. I feel
Sleepy too; maybe in a doze
I will see her, and touch her for real.
She would be my very own rose.

Now she's gone; I am alone.
I will never see her again.
Not once fall in love with her fleshy tone.
I never even found out her name.

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