The station hums with stories breaking free,
I watch the drifting lives that cross this place—
Each stranger holds a small biography.
A woman taps her suitcase nervously,
A boy keeps tracing sunlight on his face;
The station hums with stories breaking free.
Two workers laugh in quiet company,
An old man folds his paper like a brace—
Each stranger holds a small biography.
A couple argues softly, urgently,
A runner dabs the sweat she can’t erase;
The station hums with stories breaking free.
A teen rehearses lines rehearsedly,
A tourist clutches maps to find his base—
Each stranger holds a small biography.
And as the buses churn in constantly,
Their engines blur the moments we embrace.
The station hums with stories breaking free;
Each stranger holds a small biography.
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Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: November 19th, 2025 10:39
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments3
This poem reminds me of a library or the book "The bridge of San Luis Rey" individual stories that all come together at one point in time. A lovely write.
I believe they are all written somewhere, held by a good bookkeeper.
Sonder rulz, but your poetic definition has more depth and therefore is more enjoyable.
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