This poem is my entry for the Monday Poetry Potluck, I thought it had sort of a romantic, affectionate mood to it x3
* * *
The train stole her.
It was a winter dawn that felt like a frosty evening.
Snow drifted towards the ground like flower petals.
He was in his thick army jacket.
She looked like a bandit, with a dandelion scarf bundled around her face.
He attempted to stuff another dollar into her pockets.
She promised to buy him the latest novels, a new coffee mug, and
maybe some tea.
The train tracks whispered.
The watch hands crawled past seven
And reflected onto their faces pale sunlight.
A streetlamp droned above them.
Then it fizzed out, showering them in snowflakes and sparks.
She caught a snowflake on her tongue, going cross-eyed.
Crystals melted on her tongue with a hiss.
A pale red train creaked into the station.
She made a dash for the door.
The conductor made a beeline toward the coffeeshop.
He hollered at the conductor, waving his arms angrily.
She picked herself off the ground.
Streetlights in the distance died.
She tugged at his cheeks in the dark.
Her breath swirled with chill, mingling with his.
He smelled like drugstore cologne, lemons, and gasoline.
The red train zipped over the horizon and fell.
They reveled in the silence, but for the
twittering of sparrows.
An old man sprinkled sesame across the snow.
She clapped for the moment and pulled out her camera.
He wanted a postcard, he asked for one.
She opened her mouth to speak.
The train shot past on the tracks,
Squealed to a stop.
The crows came, Scared the songbirds away.
She tucked her faux leather purse
behind her shoulders.
He hauled her suitcases into the train.
His arms burned with effort.
Her cheeks burned with cold.
The train stole her away.
He slept in the snow, his jacket was a cushion.
A wet nose smeared his face, his chapped lips.
She peeked out of the window.
The train plunged into the morning,
Steam snaking through the watercolor sky.