That Morning

The train came early
that morning,
and the torturous weather
was hitting my pink patent rain hat
and wetting my face,
instead of tricking down
the other side of the window -
beautifully.

I cursed the incompetent watch
that owned the train driver,
that morning.
Had it been synchronised with mine
I'd have been reclining comfortably,
and dosing as I passed
the storm blown trees.

But, the reality
was chilly and sodden,
and time became satire
as the rain slowed down the
seconds.

The later train was [always]
almost around the corner.
But the will of my frustration
wasn't quite enough to edge
the train into sight.

After all,
if the train came early
that morning
some poor bugger would be
left stood in the rain.

It was then that I saw
two misty eyes.

The train had arrived.