top of page

                 Waiting, Still




          Standing, waiting here at the station.

        Raindrops falling: tears of the dark night.

        Watching, wondering if she’ll forget me.

        Here as the lightning strikes down on the plain.

        Waiting, still, for her.


        Nighttime darkness veils me in shadow,

        As she stands there bathed in the train’s light.

        Flowing, falling, I can see clearly,

        Tears as they track down her face with the rain.

        Waiting, still, for me.


        I served, knowing that my life was ransom.

        Gave it, gladly, to save my friends.

        Still, I love her.


        Night train passes, once more not stopping.

        She turns, grieving, lost in her love.

        Aching, seeking, knowing I won’t come.

        Still she stands nightly to watch for the train.

        Waiting, still, for me.


        If once more in this night I could hold her,

        As I’m held from above.

        Still, I love her.


        Lifting, gentle breeze now enfolds her.

        She turns, trembling, still in the deep night.

        Knowing, kneeling, now she sees clearly.

        Smiles at the greeting I sent through the rain.

        Waiting, still, for her. Waiting, still, for me.




                                                   Joseph Stringer

                                                  8 January, 2011








bottom of page