She sits on a train, trapped, without power,
Reaching speeds of one hundred miles an hour.
Her future a dream, destination untold,
All she knows is she’s stuck, there, on that road.
Tinted windows rattle, the foghorn cries,
Her eyes try to sink but the roaring train denies.
She stares outside, but sees only a glance;
The figures fly by, well before her chance.
She trusts the destination is one to be loved,
A merited end which remains well unheard of.
But if her dreams are to be her final abode,
When will she smell the roses racing by the road?
Trees, cars, buildings, all of the world impends,
All she sees is colors, shapes in a blend.
Struggling in the midst of a ceaseless storm,
All she can do is believe in the morn.
Alone on this journey, for none know her inside,
Alone on this journey, for all else is denied,
Alone on this journey, anxious and tired,
To pause just a moment is all she desires.
To stand on the platform by the hurrying train,
To smell the roses, the sun and the rain,
To rest from her journey’s eternal commotion,
A pause is her only desire, though unspoken.