Ticket in Hand

The dark of the morning,

Driving the long ride in through the rain.

Seeing the gigantic station emerge from the darkness in front of me.

I grab my bags and lock my doors,

I walk in, ticket in hand.

One way.

Looking out the window as the train pulls away,

I do not know when I'll be back. 

The train and I disappear into the fog,

like a ghost.

Gone before the sun appears,

before anyone awakes.