It was after a long-awaited response
(Which turned out to be a slap to the face
Rather than a fresh kiss tinted with sunlight)
That, instead of mournful silence
(It is silence that I often miss),
I giggled at a thought;

I feel like a dog running alone in
A cantaloupe field,
Just a little melon collie.

A small girl taps on my shoulder while
I try to nurture the small smile playing on my lips.
My face scolds it and life returns to its
Regular programming,
Leaving me with the wisp of happiness
And the sense that he was wrong.

It is the most intimate a situation he had ever found himself in.
On a public transport, after someone had left their roost,
He had replaced himself in their seat.
An odd sensation went through him as he sat down,
The feeling that he was trespassing in someone else's skin,
Learning things about them they hadn't meant to leave behind.
He felt their warmth, the way the seat contoured to them
And he knew not their name.
There were feelings left in the seat
Sadness, depression and pain saturated the resting place,
Yet something lifted his heart out of his chest,
Rising from his perch and flying to the sky.
Hope had also been found through the prior resident,
Remaining in the seat like a lost wallet.
He drew on this remarkable gift amid the monotony of the rocking subway;
The gratification he felt toward this unknowing Maecenas was not to be extinguished,
At least for that one blissful moment found on
Public transportation.