To the probably late 20 something woman on the train

How welcoming

your silent face

as you sat opposite me at Wembley Park station.

 

Our diagonal faces would meet

in between your gleeful feasts of Werther’s sweets

yet it wasn’t the re-emergence of your youth before each bite

that enticed my distant admiration.

 

A quiet content expression

Genuine

with each passing electrical cable through the window drawing me back.

 

I was lost in your reflection.

 

Too London to hold a gaze into that soft expression

Too rush hour to let my smile be welcomed into your world.

 

“The next station is Baker Street.”

“All change.”

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