All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Platform 3-A MAG
Shecan still remember when she methim
Stepping off that train,on the platform in the rain
She can still remember the taste of her cherrylollipop
Coloring her lipslike lipstick
The drops of rain ran down her school-girl plaid slicker
Shethinks of the smell that hung in the dampair
The crisp, fresh-alivescent of the rain
He tipped his little boy cap, and was off withGrandpa
The clock had readhalf past nine on Platform 3-A
She remembers waiting on that spring dayfor high school
A crispbreeze rustled her school-girl plaid uniform
She shudders; a forest greensweater with a maroon pin stripe was draped aroundher
It was slightly itchywool, but fit justright
Surprised, she looksup to see his warm, smiling face
He tips his cap, and stepsback
The clock had readquarter to seven on Platform 3-A
She sits remembering when he asked her todance
The night was theirs,and they seized it
It was a coolish summer night, and they slow dancedbarefoot on the dew-wetgrass
All the night through,with the crickets playing soul music and the fireflies twirling andsparking
Theirway
The clock read their thoughts, though it was faraway, on Platform3-A
She remembers vividly the day he left
He was to leave for collegehere, and she was to work for a year and then go to another place
The rainrumbled in, its pistons pumping like a stampede of wildhorses
A stampede of wildhorses that dragged him away
She cried for days, as did he, though theirromance was fleeting
It wasthe kind you don't forget. The kind, that when left to die, you regret
Theclock read three-thirty on Platform 3-A, that fateful day.
She sits therenow, anxious to hear the wildhorses
The wild horses withwings flying him back to her on metallic wheels
She sits there now with alollipop in hermouth
Painting her lips likecherry lipstick
She's alone on Platform 3-A, on a day that's warm like alover's blush,
Awaiting asteel chariot to bring him back toher
Awaiting that breath topush life into her, his steel and flint kiss sparking her lifeagain
Anxiously, nervously she hears the pistons pumping,
Fidgety,apprehensively, she walks toward theedge
She leans over andstares back toward the rapidly approaching black capsule
The clock has nohands now, but it smiles good fortune at the woman on Platform 3-A
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 2 comments.
0 articles 0 photos 12292 comments