The Girl on the Train

She entered the train's compartment,
Tall and light, her head held high.
She made a few heads turn,
a strong and defiant spark in her eye.

Her clothes making a statement,
I wonder why, so hard she had to try.
A short mini, way above the knee,
skimming her thigh, a tad brazenly.
A belt worn right, making her curvy,
A jacket somewhat covering her modesty.

Her hair long, straight and left loose,
Unhindered by worldly cares.
Not a hint of makeup on her face,
Pretty and Lovely nonetheless.
A beautiful dusky complexion,
Bright brown eyes but without softness.

As I gazed at her a bit longer,
Her shoes though heeled high,
were well-worn and past their prime,
Unevenly lacquered toenails,
caught my curiosity and my eye.

Her phone outdated and scratched,
Clutched tight in fingers unkempt,
scars on her calves n hands,
(God! Were they cigarette burns?)
Got me wondering why.

As I wondered and pondered,
Her eyes changed colours,
Sometimes defiant, strong and angry,
Suddenly moist and teary,
Staring into space,
A thousand battles raging.

And then they changed again,
She finally found peace,
A decision was made.
A light smile on her lips,
a spring in her step,
And she got off the train....