I would have waited there

there under the scalloped canopy

where the firebuckets nestled

where a shadowed door waited too

with its brass handle loose with too much use

 

there I would have waited too

so that the day could progress

at a pace that suited the sun

in its lazy arc

before the day turned dark,

and the flower bed sprang

and the dusty broom loitered

 

so I waited more and more

and would have gladly called that spot my own

and though a train would never come

I could be there still

where the dream flowed in.

There was nothing I could do,

life like the train departing

 

and still, in the dark

when the door became lost

I would have waited

still I would have waited.