• cathdavies 5w

    Sliding Doors

    She crumples to the platform
    of the Tube, in tears
    that the dream is over.

    A stranger asks if they can help?
    No, but thanks anyway.

    She will never be a dancer.
    Getting up, she wipes
    four years from her face.

    Breathes in. The train arrives.
    Stepping on, yes - the dream is over,
    but the circulating city

    endures. She holds the burning
    disappointment. Exhales.
    She will never forget a face.

    A stranger asked if they could help;
    she will never forget that.