The Train Ride Is Boring
But thank god for you. I keep
waking up from my sleep,
head bumping on the window:
cityscape, away from the town
that hate our rekindled souls.
My book slipped from my fingers
about three times,
The fourth one you caught it
And just told me how the story goes.
You offered your shoulder,
"I love you so much that
I'll offer my body for your comfort."
I have never believed in the unbelievable,
winged-halos, nor people
dying in wooden crosses;
But I thank god for you,
For making this train ride less boring.
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