ONE WAY TICKET

© RYAN GUILEY

Your picture hangs on the wall,

Seeing you last in Montreal,

Riding the subway at midnight,

Shivering, it’s 30 degrees Fahrenheit.

 

Trying to get to the ground level street,

Lost without a map or a worksheet,

Finally, getting to the above busy avenue,

Already walking miles in fancy dress shoes.

 

30 minutes away from the airport,

Without any money, I’m falling short,

Taking the free express being shuttled,

Making sure I get a seat, moving scuttled.

 

The airplane is ready to head to Ottawa,

In the terminal, I call the in-laws,

Making sure you don’t get on that plane,

As my last chance will be taking the train.

 

In the morning, a one-way ticket,

As you are near, chirping like a cricket,

On the same train, but different boxcars,

Now, I must think, while I take a pause.

 

How can I get to business class?

So, I get up running making a dash,

Jumping three boxcars calling out your name,

As they block the door, as I look at the window frame.

 

The usher tells me to sit back at my seat,

As I tell them, I love you, with my heartbeat,

The train stops in Kingston, Ontario,

Do I get off, what is the best scenario?

 

I stay on, while it starts moving forward,

As you got off, with their direct orders,

All alone on the westbound to Toronto,

Getting off, while security moved people pronto.

 

Within hours you had to make a choice,

But you heard me, with my voice,

That, you need to turn back,

So, we can be a family all intact.

 

On this Christmas Eve in a gloom,

I’m being swept away, like a broom,

How I miss you and being always true,

As you know, how much I will always love you.