The Platform Between

In the underground glow of London, she lingered at the edge of the platform—

a lone figure framed by fluorescent light and the soft tremor of approaching steel.

 

Trains came and went in long, rhythmic sweeps,

each one pulling a rush of air that brushed her coat

and hinted at places she might go,

or perhaps the ones she wished she could return to.

 

She didn’t rush.

Instead, she stood in that thin, familiar space

between motion and stillness,

between the life that moves on without asking

and the quiet ache of wanting something just out of reach.

 

Even in the noise and the motion,

there was a longing in the way she waited—

as if the next train might carry her not just forward,

but closer to something she’s been missing.

Done