Wrong place

Wrong building, wrong door. I am clutching an invitation in my hand. Wrong building, wrong door, and a wrong name, too. It is time to catch a train to my town, go home and cook a supper. I see your eyes, your smile ... Wrong person, too. I boarded a wrong train, which takes me to the places I have never been before. There will be a new morning soon, new dew will wash away all yesterday's mistakes. Why I still see your face, your smiling eyes, when I know nothing lasts? Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 5/19/2012