The bench is hard, my hands are stiff
Electric light is in the air
More Departures and Arrivals
Of which my eyes are unaware
A stinging cold clings to my toes
As I read that you are late
I notice that there are white caps
On the trains – and still – I wait –
But if it wasn’t for your face
I would go back to my retreat
If it wasn’t for your smile
I would go home and warm my feet
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