Mar
29
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A walk through Euston Station
is like stepping inside a time machine
where I can travel back into a
vast collection of memories,
like a room full of antique paintings,
each telling their own story.
The nervous wait before our first meeting;
writing a letter the next day in the belief
it would be our last.
Raindrops on a February morning.
The best afternoon in September;
teardrops by nightfall.
Krispy Kreme dougnuts and
countless cups of coffee.
I can’t wait for my next Tube ticket,
to provide me with the tools to
paint another masterpiece.
