Same Time Tomorrow

The man across from me has his newspaper.

Folded in four to read the crossword puzzle.

The woman next to him wears a brown coat.

We see each other here every single day.

We do not speak but we know who we are.

Neighbors upon this early morning line.

We share the silent journey through the city.

And give each other quiet room to be.

He finds the word he wanted and he smiles.

She turns her page and sips her travel mug.

I nod my head a tiny bit in greeting.

An unspoken friendship on the train.

We do not speak but we know who we are.

We hold the same routine from day to day.

There is a comfort in these quiet faces.

We are not lonely on this early track.

You do not need to know a person's name

To wish them well upon their daily road.

We all have places where we need to go.

And work that needs our hands until the night.

We do not speak but we know who we are.

The train slows down as we approach my stop.

I gather up my coat and take my bag.

I hope their day goes gently all way through.

I walk past them and give a gentle nod.

I see you here again at seven thirty.

Same time tomorrow on the same train car.

Same time tomorrow as we ride along.

The hallway light is still on behind me.

I pull my jacket tight against the chill.

The door clicks soft into the wooden frame.

I put the small brass key inside my pocket.

I am going out into the morning now.

The quiet air feels crisp and fresh and clear.

One step at a time along the concrete path.

A simple start begins right at my door.

The sky is pale grey above the roof line.

My boots make rhythm on the empty sidewalk.

I pull my woolen collar up a bit.

The neighborhood is slowly waking up.

I am going out into the morning now.

The streetlights fade to white along the road.

My hands are deep inside my warm coat pockets.

I take a breath and keep on walking forward.

There is no need to hurry through this space.

The early hour gives me time to move.

I watch my shadow stretch across the pavement.

Everything is steady in this place.

I am going out into the morning now.

The world is wide and waiting for the day.

I count my steps until I reach the corner.

It feels so good to simply be alive.

I turn the corner down toward the stop.

The light is coming up behind the trees.

I keep my pace and walk into the morning.

I keep my pace and carry on my way.

My blue woolen scarf is wrapped up tight.

I see my breath rise up into the air.

The concrete steps are wet with morning dew.

I hear a lonely bird call from the branch.

It feels good to feel the morning air.

It wakes me up before the sun comes out.

I stretch my arms and take a quiet step.

Another day is opening its arms.

The morning breeze is rustling through the leaves.

I walk past rows of silent sleeping homes.

A milk truck rolls down softly through the lane.

My feet feel light upon the paving stones.

It feels good to feel the morning air.

It clears my head of yesterday's small worries.

I see the pink light painted on the clouds.

I am content with where my feet are walking.

Some days begin with quiet simple grace.

No rush or noise to pull me off my track.

Just open space and room to clear my mind.

And cold air softly blowing on my face.

It feels good to feel the morning air.

The early hour holds a gentle comfort.

I smile to myself and keep my rhythm.

I am right where I am supposed to be.

I breathe it in and slowly let it go.

The cold air sets me free to start again.

I walk along until I see the station.

I breathe it in and keep my steady march.

The tall yellow posts stand along the street.

One by one they flicker out above.

The blue sky grows a little brighter now.

I watch the shadows melt away so fast.

The morning light is creeping over town.

It touches every brick and every wire.

I feel a gentle push inside my steps.

We all wake up together in this light.

An old stray cat slips underneath a fence.

A bakery opens up its wooden shutter.

The smell of fresh baked bread is in the air.

I wave my hand to someone sweeping clean.

The morning light is creeping over town.

It brings a softness to the concrete walls.

I keep my pace along the quiet sidewalk.

There is a place for everything today.

The city wakes without a single scream.

It turns the page in silence and in peace.

And every streetlight clicking off above us

Is saying that the night has let us go.

The morning light is creeping over town.

It fills the avenue with quiet golden color.

I zip my jacket up and cross the lane.

I carry peace inside my quiet heart.

The last lamp fades into the pale blue sky.

I hear the distant sound of moving tires.

The world is bright and open up ahead.

I walk into the light that guides me home.

Down the tiled stairs into the quiet hall.

The green arrow blinks above the gate.

I pull my plastic card out from my pocket.

The soft beep tells me I am good to go.

Through the gate and down toward the track.

Another morning rhythm starts again.

My footsteps echo on the polished tile.

I am on my way to do my part.

The station manager nods from his glass window.

He wears a clean pressed shirt and silver badge.

We trade a quiet look of mutual greeting.

Two early workers starting on the job.

Through the gate and down toward the track.

The air is cool and smells of iron rails.

I check the sign that lists the coming trains.

Everything is running right on time.

It is a simple thing to cross this line.

A small daily habit done without a thought.

But every tap is opening a doorway

To all the honest work that lies ahead.

Through the gate and down toward the track.

I feel the hum of engines far below.

I find my spot beside the yellow line.

I stand in peace and wait for my ride.

The green light glimmers on the plastic card.

I slip it back into my coat pocket.

I take my spot along the platform edge.

I stand in peace and wait for my train.

The yellow floor line stretches down the way.

My leather shoes are settled on the stone.

A breeze comes blowing down the narrow tunnel.

It brings the sound of wheels upon the steel.

We wait together in the early hour.

Nobody talks but everyone is kind.

We share the platform in a quiet patience.

Ready to go wherever we belong.

A woman reads a small book in her hands.

A young man listens closely to his phone.

We stand in lines two steps behind the edge.

Our breath makes gentle clouds inside the cold.

We wait together in the early hour.

The dark tunnel begins to glow with light.

I fix my bag upon my shoulder now.

There is a calm inside this waiting room.

There is a dignity in standing here.

Before the busy day begins to shout.

Just ordinary people moving forward.

To earn their bread and build a decent life.

We wait together in the early hour.

The bright headlight is turning round the bend.

I take one step and get ready to board.

We move as one into the shining train.

The brakes squeak softly as the car slows down.

The metal doors slide open with a hiss.

We step inside together one by one.

We step inside and carry on our way.

Two silver headlights shining through the dark.

The rush of wind arrives before the cars.

The heavy rumble shakes the concrete floor.

The train glides in and comes to a full stop.

Here comes the train to carry us along.

It rolls on iron tracks across the city.

It arrives right when it promised it would come.

A steady friend to take us to our day.

The doors part wide with a gentle rush of air.

The warm interior lights are softly glowing.

People step out and let us step inside.

A smooth exchange of places in the dark.

Here comes the train to carry us along.

It holds a hundred stories in its seats.

I grab the metal pole and hold on tight.

We slide away into the dark tunnel.

It picks us up and brings us where we go.

Through wind and rain and early morning cold.

A solid machine that keeps the city moving.

Doing its job without a word of pride.

Here comes the train to carry us along.

The wheels hum softly underneath our feet.

I look out at the dark glass of the window.

I feel at peace within this moving room.

The train speeds up and leaves the station wall.

The lights flicker once and then stay bright.

We slide along together down the track.

We slide along into the morning sun.

I find an empty spot beside the door.

The green fabric seat is clean and worn.

I sit down softly and adjust my jacket.

My knees fit nicely in the narrow space.

I take my seat and look out at the glass.

The world moves past in steady lines of light.

I rest my head against the plastic frame.

This little corner is my home right now.

The train sways gently as it gains its speed.

I feel the rhythm in my lower back.

My lap holds my dark leather work bag tight.

Everything I need is right with me.

I take my seat and look out at the glass.

The dark tunnel ends and out comes the sun.

The bridge appears above the river water.

It shines like silver in the morning light.

It does not take a lot to make me glad.

A quiet seat and time to rest my feet.

Before I give my effort to the day.

I take this gift of twenty minutes peace.

I take my seat and look out at the glass.

The river sparkles blue below the train.

I watch a small boat floating in the bay.

I take a breath and let my shoulders drop.

The seat is warm and comfortable today.

I watch the shadows dancing on the floor.

The train moves smoothly on its steady track.

I watch the world and let my spirit rest.

The train rolls out onto the high bridge track.

The red brick buildings rise beside the line.

The morning sun hits every glass window.

It reflects gold across the narrow street.

Look at the sun upon the old red brick.

It makes the city look so clean and warm.

An ordinary morning filled with light.

A gentle comfort for the eyes to see.

I see a flower pot on a fire escape.

A yellow curtain fluttering in the air.

Someone is pouring tea inside their kitchen.

A simple life unfolds in every room.

Look at the sun upon the old red brick.

It shines on concrete and on iron bars.

It does not ask for anything at all.

It gives its light to everyone the same.

We often pass these buildings every day.

Without a second look at how they stand.

But in this light they look so strong and proud.

Built by hand to last a hundred years.

Look at the sun upon the old red brick.

It turns the city into something grand.

I lean my shoulder on the glass and smile.

I feel the warmth coming through the pane.

The golden light keeps traveling with the train.

It lights the alleyways and high rooftops.

I hold this view inside my quiet mind.

I hold this light and take it to my work.

I put the small white plugs inside my ears.

A soft guitar begins to strum a chord.

The noisy world outside just fades away.

A quiet melody surrounds my mind.

With songs inside my headphones on the train.

My daily walk becomes a quiet dance.

I keep the beat with small taps of my toe.

A secret rhythm only I can hear.

The singer talks about a simple life.

Of honest work and keeping promises.

The words fit nicely with the passing view.

As we roll past the factories and parks.

With songs inside my headphones on the train.

The morning commute feels soft and easy now.

I watch the scenery slide right past my eyes.

I feel a quiet joy inside my chest.

Good music keeps a person standing straight.

It lifts the heavy weight off tired thoughts.

It gives a gentle coat to wear outside

When morning winds are blowing down the street.

With songs inside my headphones on the train.

I am supported by a friendly sound.

I press play again to hear the chorus chorus.

I feel ready for whatever comes.

The final note rings long and stays clear.

I keep my headphones in until I step off.

The music carries me along the floor.

It keeps me smiling all the way inside.

The bus is warm inside against the rain.

The window glass is fogged with white moist air.

I lift my thumb and wipe a little circle.

To see the wet streets shining in the dark.

I wipe the glass to look out at the world.

The rainy street reflects the neon signs.

The water droplets run down in a line.

Everything looks softer through the rain.

The windshield wipers move from side to side.

With a steady rhythmic sweep across the front.

The bus driver turns the wheel with steady hands.

Navigating through the morning traffic jam.

I wipe the glass to look out at the world.

I see pedestrians with bright umbrellas.

They step around the puddles on the road.

Everyone is making their way along.

Inside this bus it feels so dry and safe.

The heater hums against my tired boots.

I pull my wet gloves off and hold my hands.

And watch the grey city turn to green and gold.

I wipe the glass to look out at the world.

The clear circle gives me a pretty view.

I watch the wet trees shaking off the rain.

I feel a quiet safety in my seat.

The bus pulls over close beside the curb.

I wipe the glass one last time with my sleeve.

I get ready to step into the air.

I get ready and step out with a smile.

I step off the bus onto the sidewalk.

The air is fresh and smells of morning rain.

My office building stands two blocks ahead.

Its grey stone pillars rising up so high.

Just two blocks left to walk upon my feet.

I take my time and do not rush my steps.

My body feels awake and full of life.

I am almost at the place where I work.

I pass the flower shop with buckets out.

Fresh pink roses and yellow daffodils.

The florist waves hello with a warm smile.

I wave back as I walk right past his door.

Just two blocks left to walk upon my feet.

The morning breeze is light upon my face.

I hear the city noise begin to grow.

The day is starting up for everyone.

This last short walk is my favorite part.

Between the journey and the working hours.

Where I can clear my mind of any stress.

And set my heart to do a good job now.

Just two blocks left to walk upon my feet.

I see the glass doors glistening in the sun.

I feel a steady pride inside my chest.

I am glad to have a place to give my best.

I cross the street as the green light appears.

My footsteps sound so solid on the stone.

Just ten more yards until I reach the door.

Just ten more yards and then I am inside.

I stop beside the small corner coffee shop.

The bell rings gentle as I push the door.

I ask for one hot tea inside a cup.

The paper cup feels hot against my palm.

I hold the warmth in both my hands right now.

It sends a quiet heat through all my skin.

A simple comfort bought for two small coins.

To keep me warm as I step back outside.

I blow upon the lid to cool it down.

The steam rises up into my eyes.

I take a small sip as I walk along.

The sweet tea tastes so good on a cold day.

I hold the warmth in both my hands right now.

It warms my fingers through my woolen gloves.

I walk along the last stretch of the road.

With peaceful thoughts inside my resting mind.

Sometimes a tiny thing is all we need.

To make a grey day feel a little bright.

A cup of tea to hold onto a while.

And knowing that we do our daily part.

I hold the warmth in both my hands right now.

I feel it settle down into my chest.

I watch my breath fade in the morning air.

I am content with this morning cup.

I hold the paper cup tight in my grip.

I take another quiet sip of tea.

I turn toward the large revolving doors.

I carry this small warmth inside with me.

I stand beside the curb along the street.

The red hand signal tells us all to stop.

A crowd of people gathers at my side.

We watch the yellow taxis driving past.

We wait for the light to turn to green.

A moment paused before we cross the road.

No need to hurry when the signal says wait.

We stand in patience on the city curb.

A delivery cyclist stops beside the line.

His heavy pack is strapped onto his back.

He takes a drink of water from his flask.

We trade a quiet smile of understanding.

We wait for the light to turn to green.

The cars slow down and stop behind the line.

I feel the morning sun upon my back.

It is a quiet pause inside the walk.

There is a rhythm to the city lights.

They tell us when to move and when to stand.

And in this little pause along the way

I get to look around and take a breath.

We wait for the light to turn to green.

The white walking man appears at last.

We step together off the granite curb.

We cross the street in one big gentle wave.

My boots touch down upon the other side.

The crosswalk beep sounds soft behind my back.

I keep my eyes ahead upon the door.

I keep my eyes ahead and walk on through.

The tall glass door reflects the morning sky.

I put my hand against the heavy brass.

I give a gentle push and step inside.

The quiet lobby air is warm and still.

I push the door and walk into the hall.

My journey for the morning is complete.

I wipe my boots upon the dark floor mat.

I am ready for the work that waits for me.

The guard behind the desk gives me a smile.

Good morning sir he says with gentle voice.

Good morning back I say and wave my hand.

It feels so good to be welcomed inside.

I push the door and walk into the hall.

The shiny marble floor reflects the light.

I walk toward the metal elevator doors.

My mind is clear and light and at ease.

It takes an effort just to make it here.

To wake up early and to face the cold.

But standing in this lobby feels so right.

An honest day of work is starting now.

I push the door and walk into the hall.

I press the button for the seventh floor.

I turn around and watch the street outside.

Glad that I am here to do my best.

The elevator bell makes a soft chime.

The silver doors slide open smooth and wide.

I step inside and press the seven light.

I step inside and start my working day.

I hang my woolen coat upon the hook.

I put my leather bag beside my desk.

I sit down on my chair and take a breath.

The morning sun comes through the window pane.

I am right here and ready for today.

My commute is done and I am feeling good.

I have a simple job to do right now.

And I will give it all my steady care.

I turn my computer on and watch it boot.

I set my hot tea right beside the keys.

The office is so quiet at this hour.

A peaceful space to start my daily tasks.

I am right here and ready for today.

I know my work is humble but it counts.

It brings a good roof over my home.

It keeps my family safe and well fed.

Every step I took from my front door

Has brought me to this desk with quiet pride.

An ordinary person doing good

Along with thousands across this city.

I am right here and ready for today.

I feel a calm strength deep inside my heart.

I open up my files and start to work.

I smile to myself and carry on.

The morning light is bright upon my desk.

I take my pen and hold it in my hand.

I am right where I am supposed to be.

I am right here and ready for today.