I wait not in a ruined station,
anymore,
but by tracks no longer rusted.
Not in a wasteland lingering,
anymore,
but by shiny rails across steppe snow dusted.
For the express in vain no longer waiting,
anymore,
but for the local train, connection planned.
I wait not for a wishful dream,
anymore,
but for a friend, trusted, to be close at hand.
Fergus Carty
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