Crayon Blue

He was a struggling romancer

caught between,

Contagious frowns

on the 6:15.

Shoulder to shoulder

in muted malaise,

They were tiny pieces,

Bereft of choice.

Leaking in to stations,

in a trickle back for rest.

Yet in a pocket, within a notebook,

There were lines he drew,

Like in child times, in crayon blue,

Past the labyrinth of his plight.