A hard-won gift each day is
Fought for by the struggling ranks
Of births and deaths
Always flowing in and out
I wonder if there's an old station
Or a platform a little above
The earth where they can meet
And confer exchanging words
For silence bodies for souls
Waiting for their late trains
To finally arrive and take them
To their final destinations
Or is it like two trains
Rushing past one another
Trying to touch a face in the swell
That moment when eyes catch
Waving farewell
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