PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The girl sat at a bench in the station, watching people pass. They didn’t see her, but she saw them. There was the woman with a cellphone in one hand, fancy purse in the other, all dressed up and carrying herself with much class and grace, the girl could picture her arriving to an office at her house, drinking coffee and getting done as much work as she could before going to bed. A little girl was bent down on her knees, picking up a butterfly with a broken wing, saying comforting words to the insect when an older woman – her mother, the girl supposed, came to pick the little girl off the ground by the arm and scolded her for getting dirt on her dress, the girl could picture them arriving to their house and having homemade food for dinner, waiting for the little girl’s father to arrive from a long day at work. Then there was this boy that was leaning against a wall at the center of the station, long hair, headphones on, tapping his hand against his leg with rhythm, the girl could picture him arriving to a basement with his friends and playing the drums for their band. Near the boy was an old man, sitting at a bench like the girl, he had glasses on and a small book in hand, looking pretty immersed on what he was reading, the girl could picture him arriving to a lonely house, going to bed by himself and reading the final chapters of the book before getting some sleep. There was a very tall man holding hands with a much shorter woman, and as they walked by the girl, she could see the ring on the woman’s hand that was also holding a bouquet of roses and she could picture them arriving to their apartment and having a beautiful dinner for two to celebrate the woman’s arrival. The girl sat there, thinking about how every person at the station had a life she will never know about, how each of them had their own places to go and people to be with, how she will probably never even see any of them again. After all, they were just strangers passing by.