The 5:32 by Phyllis McGinley

Phyllis_McGinley

image found at en.wikipedia.org

 

The 5:32

She said, If tomorrow my world were torn in two,

Blacked out, dissolved, I think I would remember

(As if transfixed in unsurrendering amber)

This hour best of all the hours I knew:

Children scuffing the seats, and the women driving

With ribbons around their hair, and the trains arriving,

And the men getting off with tired but practiced motion.

 

Yes, I would remember my life like this, she said:

Autumn, the platform red with Virginia creeper,

And a man coming toward me, smiling, the evening paper

Under his arm, and his hat pushed back on his head;

And the wood smoke lying like haze on the quiet town,

And dinner waiting, and the sun not yet gone down.

(1932)