Faded, hazy lines erased to softness
Low rumble of thunder
Train in the distance
What is this?
She listens.
The loquacious nature
Of her thoughts alter
Halt as she pours her alms
On her inner altar.
She proffers
Scoffers mocking
What some will never
Overstand
Understated
The way her name is whispered
As he's waiting
Train hums
Anticipating
The station is dark and cold.
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