Nameless faces with Hidden pains Rest on frosty glass Or droop in The vacant aisle
We are alone In good company Hidden yet seen A weary reflection Stares from the window
We dive in our screens While the hollowness screams Our music turned louder To silence friendly chatter We’re lost but on course
The air is scented with perfume and cigarettes A baby cries, a mother hushes, an old man sighs, and the metal wheels keep rolling
I haven’t yet seen a smile After a quarter-past-nine Just another Tuesday night On the tracks between Stations with no ties that bind Photo by: Region of Waterloo, Grand River Transit