I sat one night in the darkened subway,
Mind wand'ring everywhere, and nowhere,
At the end of an evil night, and a sad day,
Then thoughts of her begin to appear.

On a day,not entirely unlike this one,
You entered the darkened platform,
My paper was raised, yet I read none,
Left stranded in an emotional maelstrom.

A tap I felt on my shoulder, and saw I then,
Nature's craft unveiled to my baleful stare,
And I finally felt rested from cares when
You asked "Is there anyone sitting there?"

I answered "No, you're welcome to sit there",
and when she had, she started to speak softly,
Her words I can't remember, but that her hair,
Flowed like running water, swift, pure and easily.

For hours it seemed, and the station clock stopped,
On a cold winters day I beheld the best of the season,
And lifes cares from my weary shoulders just dropped,
Madness and despair gave way to calm and reason.

The train stopped in the station, ready to spirit you away,
And your smile shone like a dying star's last gasp,
And I asked one thing of you "please, would you stay?"
In a voice unlike my own, in a nervous, throaty rasp.

And the smile was dimmed, the light has swift waned,
With a sadness I know now she shook her head,
And stepping off, left the platform, nothing said,
And only I within a world of darkness now remained.

So now you see me, broken, lost in my own world,
On that bench I sit, waiting till I find my soul,
Yet I cannot, till I see her hair again unfurled,
And again cause myself to be whole.

_________________
"This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise, why should they expect to know it, until the hour has struck? "