I've been waiting here, at the train station, for quite some time now
Seating here by the tracks,
Hoping to hear my name called out as every new train arrives and then eventually departs once again

As a young girl I was told that one day my turn would come
One day I would be summoned into the train
New experiences would then wait ahead
I'm starting to wonder now, though, if those words were correct

I see a lot of people who get on these trains every day
Some more than once,
Others barely arrive only to be called up, much to their surprise
And then there are those who have been here for years,
Only hope exists for them
And as they get older some get bitter,
Others become railroad workers and forget all about their ride on the train
I hear they come to the end of their lives never having heard the call of their name

And so I wonder if I will grow old in this station too
Why are so many going before me?
I've been here longer and behaved better too!
I busy myself, at times, with the games at the lobby
Or sometimes volunteer to help at the front desk
Or make conversation with the others while they wait
Keeping busy, although, all the while with my ears attentive to the sound of my name

I don't want to become angry
I don't want to be bitter either
I just want to know why I feel like I've been forgotten
Why has this gift not been bestowed upon me too?
Have I been doing something wrong or waiting in the wrong lane?

Perhaps my turn will come with the next train