I saw a man on the tram,
And then he left me,
With my train of thoughts,
All alone.

Looking over the window,
I found something,
A paper, perhaps a letter,
It was folded in four,
Delicate and worn,
The creases a story,
Of journeys it had borne.

I opened it slowly,
As if unwrapping a gift,
And saw words on the page,
A heartfelt message adrift.

It said, "You've always been like this",
But what did it...