Windy Day

It's a windy day,
and a small railway station,
few kids are playing,
with pebbles and dreams,
The station master looks weary,
his wrinkles showing his age,
And there's a sage,
waiting for the train,
until it starts to rain,
he runs away,
looking for a shelter,
But I stood there,
For she was on the other side,
the one with twinkling eyes,
that carried a burden immense,
I wonder what,
I wonder why,
I keep wondering until,
she starts to cry,
I want to cross over,
I want to run and grab her,
Pull her away,
Far away from her pain,
And there's a train,
chugging towards the station,
It won't stop,
Rain won't stop,
She won't stop crying,
I won't stop trying,
To cross the platform,
Before the train arrives,
But why?
Why is she standing on the edge,
Can't she hear the train?
"Hey"
I scream,
She looks towards me,
She wants to say something,
I can't hear,
The train's too near,
I ask her to wait,
Let it pass,
And her eyes gleam,
Is that a ray of hope,
Or was it the final goodbye,
As she lays down on the tracks, dead;
I couldn't even cry,
Who was she,
Why was she,
It never mattered,
As her body pieces lie scattered,
On the railway track,
I look towards the blue sky,
Because the ground's just red,
And I wonder about,
What she wanted to say,
But the rain's droplets concealed her words,
On this windy day ...