flashing

while trying to learn the trick to leaning nonchalantly
against the pole,
i am surprised by the
golden glow coming from
the bright light at the end of the tunnel.

i often forget that the sun doesn’t
sleep during winter,
only i do.

it reflects off the
shop windows,
adds sparkle to the snow that
manages to remain white, and
makes even the years of grafitti on this
city’s sidewalks appear magical for a
sweet short
moment.

the train then enters a tunnel,
i blink as darkness sets in
look around to see if any other
witnessed
the same thing i did

(and me, just another brown-eyed, blue-framed, nearly eighteen
year old
girl with her hands
shoved deeply into pockets)

one boy looks up,
but averts his eyes just as quickly;
maybe there's
too much
hope in my gaze or

he just happened to be the only other person
not looking down
at their feet.

---

a/n: I wanted to place my hand over his heart and tell him to slow down.