Melancholy’s Architecture

I
The corner towers of a railway station
that outlasted a monarchy
each hold an angel with golden wings
at the highest point
while crowds file through the portals
on the theatrical façade
looking out onto a park where a girl
is waving, always waving, as if
to say Goodbye all day long. Her lips
are shaped with Goodbye. Her eyes are sad
and heavy with Goodbye. Among the flowers
she looks lost and lonely. She is so small
beside the stream of people
holding tickets marked with fate
that were it not for the handkerchief
held between her thumb and index finger