I like to walk alone
At night
In the cold quiet of winter
Wearing my old jacket and my tartan-lined leather gloves
The ones I use for gardening
I have a knife in my pocket
Just  in case

I walk to the abandoned train station
I sit on the worn bench, facing the harbour
Peaceful
With my knife
Ready

But no one ever comes
Not ever
Is it because it's dark and cold?
Or because I have a knife?