Grace Heriegel

–

A lady, old if I must say –

hair as grey as the dull, English skies.

Reaching into her handbag to

reapply her ‘lippy’.

She takes each step with caution.

slowing her speed to walk across the bridge

over the passing trains.

–

I sit on the train, beside a window,

eating a crappy sandwich filled with leftovers.

Excited, but a little anxious,

to have travelled the distance to see my best friend.

Reaching into my backpack to reapply my lipbalm.

–

Our lives pass

a split second

a fleeting moment

never again.

©GraceIsobelle, 2025