Poetry

I think I missed the train.. I should be riding on...
I'm standing at the station.. but I think its long since gone,
I used to have a ticket.. that afforded any ride...
But the only thing I have, is lonelyness and pride,
I can hear the whistle blowing.. as the echo moves away...
But there's nothing I can do.. that changes yesterday,
The past is just a memory.. of things I should of done...
And everything inside me.. tells me.. your the one,
I couldn't see you clearly.. through the fog across the tracks...
But if you were at the station.. I'd come running back,
And as the whistle fades away.. it whispers what I knew...
They'll always be another train.. but "not another you".