Standing on the rainy train station
A row of pigeons sit silently watching her
Worn out suitcase by her feet
I could hear the distant rumble of the train
Soon she would be gone
Her gold fingernails flashed
As though caught in sunlight.
I raise my glass of wine
Part of me knows
I cannot sign the contract that would keep me here.
She is my force majeure.
She takes the train to Eastbourne.
I leave my friend holding out his pen
I cannot do it, Don. I have to rush
I must follow her.
I spend the journey wondering how I would approach her
Do we ever know if the decisions we make
Are in our own best interests?
The unsigned contract might come back to bite me
One thing I do know, she is the girl I will marry
The rest I leave to the universe…
© Anita Dawes 2021