This morning was like postcards.
Waking and breakfast beside you.
Weaving past sidewalk trees.
That lithe dog chasing his deflating volley ball in the park.
Then the railway signals, the closing of the boom-gates -
We ran, I tripped on the large blue-metal stones,
You carried my overnight case and held out your hand;
The train horn sounded again and again
as we ran -
Parallel to the tracks and the banking train.
Running out of time
Then at the station, under wooden eaves
The driver unlocked the doors
Because he must have seen us -
Two lovers ... (just as you had said, as we walked up the grove)
... as we crossed the rails -
like a still from a movie.