Two Trains ... 

This is the same story …
but told as if time itself refused to move on.

In this slow-motion version, the moment stretches —
warm as late sunlight, fragile as breath on glass.
Two trains drift side by side on the same track,
close enough to feel the pulse,
too careful to collide.

Every detail lingers longer here:
the small half-smile,
the almost-touch,
the quiet bend where fate whispered “not today.”

The beat moves like memory underwater —
soft, blurred, tender.
Nothing is sharp;
nothing hurts right away.
It’s the ache that comes later,
when you’re already miles past the station
and it suddenly hits you
how beautiful “almost” can be.

Maybe it wasn’t a beginning.
Maybe it wasn’t an end.
Maybe it was just a lesson
in how two souls can meet,
change each other,
and drift apart without a single word.

For anyone who’s ever lived in slow motion
because letting go too fast
felt like breaking.

Lyrics:

Two trains…
same track…
late sun…
blue-black.

He walks —
she slows…
no words,
just close.

Side by side,
then a quiet bend…
Not a start,
not an end.

Just a moment…
too true to stay —
Two trains
pull away.

Headphones…
half-smile…
long road,
short while.

Her eyes
said maybe…
His hands
said steady.

Side by side,
then a quiet bend…
Not a start,
not an end.

Just a moment
that slipped away —
Two trains
roll on…
ok.

Platform hush…
Ticket dust…
Time don’t care
what we almost touched.

Side by side,
then a quiet bend…
We don’t lose —
we transcend.

Two trains…
same track…
gone slow…
fade back.

How Do I Know

Luke Temple