I met you again at the train station.
it took a while before my eyes landed on you, with the trains bloated with sea water and all, it was a little difficult to focus. but I found you in the crowd.
holding your bouquet of daisies, your briefcase singing of wind-chimes, you were carefully trying not to step on a starfish. meanwhile pigeons had started to find their perch on your flustered frame. you’ve always had a way with the world, that humble and genuine warmth– it makes it hard to forget you.
and so I think to myself again, that in this lifetime, just like all the past ones, I think it would be nice to make you laugh.
so stepping over some loose clusters of oysters and scooting around a mildly troubled sea turtle, I make my way towards you.