She was elegant it was plain
As she sat upon the train
Reading from her paper book
Trying not to take a look
As he sat upon his seat
Careful not to catch her feet
Smiling slowly turning red
He asked her what it was she said
She’d only mouthed a little “Oh.”
When his foot had hit her toe
From this little conversation
They talked until they reached his station
Wounded soldier proud but lame
Left the train with heart aflame
For as she rose to help him stand
She pressed a note into his hand
Her name and number neatly written
To signify she too was smitten
He thought of her upon the train
She was elegant it was plain