Scenery's going by
and I've left it behind
I'm already on the platform
now only a figment of my imagination
picturing it
dark
save for lamposts from a forgotten era
My imagination probably fails me
I'm stepping off the train
and you're there
waiting
the white kaftan you described
moulds itself to you
and I think you look beautiful
An awkward pause
followed by the first embrace
people rushing past
trains arriving
leaving
I can smell soap
aftershave
the warmth of your face
And no one realises
the significance of this moment
The moment
I melted into your skin
