Bee on the train

I feel like that bee, 

in the train car,

flying back and forth 

pursuing the comfort of a warm flowery bed

with tiny pollen particles sticking to my feet

as fluffy slippers at home

and a sweet nectar to soothe my thirst. 

But the the only flower

is the one on that lady’s blouse

the rest is metal, cloth and plastic. 

The bee finds a tiny crack

in the car lights and sneaks inside

warm and away from the clanking noise.