Changes (Waiting on the train)

Changes

Standing at the edge of the platform, beyond me the train line
The wind whipping my hair across my face, far overdue a trim
My face was now used to the razors attention, gone the beard worn for so long

Moments in time and little changes that I have made
Changes I thought were for something, but have now grown used to them
The palm of my hand guided over the remains of razor-created stubble

Changes are done in their small way, an image in the mirror to remind me
Changes that make me close my eyes and remember the good times
Changes that... the thought was broken as the train approached where I stand