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Signal Failure

Huddled in a corner she turns from prying eyes

Blowing on her fingers which feel like sticks of ice.

Head pressed hard against the filthy window pane

She stares into the blackness at the driving rods of rain.

 

She's all alone but for a frowning man 

Tapping on his keyboard like a beak against a can.

She buries deep into her collar praying for him to go

Suddenly without warning the train begins to slow.

 

The guard walks by, 'We're running late. The signal's failed at Link

She ran her tongue along her lips, desperate for a drink.

Tense and tired she rubs her face, fighting off despair

But one thing keeps her going: Knowing he'll be there.