and they all look the same.
But there is one I recognize,
a piece of chapped paint
next to the second door
and a slightly different sound.
reliving one memory in my mind:
the moment when you took your bag and a guitar.
Your entire world, everything you have
but there was one thing missing,
my hand in your hand…
on that train station, empty hands,
watching you go away.
Before you waved the last goodbye,
you took your keys and made a scratch
next to the second door
on that train with a different sound,
so I can recognize it when I come back.
I still watch the trains passing by…
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