From Marylebone
evening train from Marylebone,
by the door looking forlorn,
a fresh red rose in her hand,
homeward bound to Birmingham.
tearful eyes, tale of romance,
a short parting from her beau?
or breakup point of no return?
the real truth will never know,
the reason why her tears flow,
yet it triggered the muse in me,
to pen the verse that you see…
1/10/21
Written in the train
from Marylebone
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