the boy looks up at the digital screen to see
eight minutes
until his train to harlington is due to arrive.
the clock ticks slowly
it feels as if time is all he knows
and it feels as if he's wasted too much of it.
the boy stands near the very edge of the platform
heart racing,
hands trembling,
moments gathering
out of the corner of his eye he sees his train moving towards him
and as it moves closer
the boy tips over the edge of the platform
time's up.
YOU ARE READING
stationary.
Poetrylouis has only one hour, which is enough; for time had never seemed to affect him © 2014 by finallyawake. all rights reserved.
