His tired feet
Encased in shoes too small
For far too long
Worn leather cracked
And bleeding
Dusty soles betray
Where he’s been
Old sawdust and pain
Weathered by time
Waiting for a new day
When he can sail away
Her shapely leg
Disappearing at the ankle
Where it kisses new leather
Spun out and stitched together
Caressing her tender foot
In its mold
In perspective
Conscious of proximity
Crafted by love
Waiting for the late train
A constant refrain
They sit juxtaposed
Strangers in the station
Lives at the crossroads
Until the train arrives
And they fade into the crowd.
Sam
Sam's Online Journal 