you looked up from your book
and caught me looking at you
you smiled, and I smiled back
we never spoke, and you 
got off the train at the next stop

though I rode the same route
every day–to and from my job
at the department store–
I never saw you again,
but I thought about you–
your smile, your eyes
your big hands 
and broad shoulders
your neatly trimmed
and clean hair
your pressed suit
and the book 
you were reading,
something called
The Idle Hours

I looked for you 
every day,
for a time,
then, the smoke
and bustle of 
the train distracted me
from my reveries
and life, somehow,
went on

I hope it did for you, too
I hope you found–
and kept–
peace, and joy,
and love

Love, most of all