Where the Morning Starts

She folded his letter beside the glass.
At Platform Nine, let the last train pass,
Then stepped aboard with her coat held tight
And watched the station slip out of sight.

The wheels kept time with the words unsaid.
A little less weight with each mile ahead.

Take me where the morning starts.
Past the towns that held our hearts.
I can leave what I can't mend,
On this train, I begin again.

The window framed a row of signs
And all-night cafes and factory lines.
The carriage swayed; the rhythm grew,
Her hands unclenched as the skyline flew.

The wheels turned quick, the colors ran.
She felt her own life in her hands.

Take me where the morning starts.
Past the towns that held our hearts.
I can leave what I can't mend,
On this train, I begin again.

At a small-stop platform, warm air rolled in.
A vendor laughed as the doors drew in.
She let that easy rhythm carry her through.
No promise to keep, no old debt due.

Under the mirror ball, she found her feet.
Each turning shard made the whole room sweet.
A stranger smiled; she smiled back, too.
A small, bright kindness felt honest and new.

Take me where the morning starts.
Past the towns that held our hearts.
I can leave what I can't mend,
On this train, I begin again.

Dawn came cool through the open door.
She stepped out lighter than before.
The day was wide; the air was clear.
She chose the road that led from here.
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https://disk.yandex.ru/d/dGfFxFyU21ivpw

Instrumental composition is available here:

https://disk.yandex.ru/d/z57kxzehbKR_Xg