Commuter’s Love


I take the subway to my office every weekday morning,
an old grey one that screeches excitedly as it comes to a stop.
Briefcase in hand I step on this old subway,
and thirty minutes later I step off to continue my way to work.
But those thirty minutes of commute is what I hanker for.

Those thirty minutes make my day more colorful
than an artist's palette,
because that is when I get to see her.
With florid lips gently pressed together, shoulder-length curly hair
that seems to fall in every right way, a face that echoes Aphrodite.
Certainly no need for make-up or form of enhancement.

As I stare our eyes meet, oh no! What to do?
Neither of us look away as she peers into the depths of my soul,
I feel my pulse quicken and beginnings of a flustered sweat.
Panic encroaching!
But then, she smiles a beautiful smile
and my heart lightens to a flutter, what a wonderful day!

The moment passes, and my stop comes before me.
I floated out of the old subway and followed my usual route to work,
anymore of her and my heart would surely burst.
I am horribly in love with a woman I know not name nor voice,
yet each new day I await my thirty minutes on that old grey subway.

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