The Storm Shelter

The Storm Shelter

It’s so dark in here;
the light is fading.

I can see the storm approaching through the window above me,
soon the rain will come down.

‘Hier drinnen ist es trocken,’ I say, and it is;
packed in like sardines, but at least we’re dry.

I share an awkward smile with the man next to me –
no, hardly a man, more a boy.
There’s barely any hair on his lip.

In the darkness it’s hard to tell,
which is comforting, in a way.
Difference is hidden by darkness.

But I’m close enough to see
that he has a blemish, in the shape of a star.

Read on…