Station on a Spring Glow

I have in my hand a ticket One that I bought hours after the train had departed. It's heavy in my grip This featherweight slip of paper I fold it into a heart but easily it rips. I bought this ticket after the train was long gone after it was so far away I knew I could never catch up. But the ticket is so lovely -- a paper heart forever mine. And I deceived myself into believing that if I waved this ticket enough The train long gone it would come back; it would chase me instead. So I won't tell anyone of my purchase For it is embarrassing to say that I wanted to take a train already Gone, for good. They would mark me stupid. They would take my heart away.