I met a stranger, a stranger, in the city today
and I gave her my umbrella 'cause she had no coat on in the rain

The rabbit is, in the beginning, not much more than a beast. he's a creature of emphasized prey evolutions. Strong hind feet kick out for fleeting bursts of speed, a hunched back allows the rabbit to hide in smaller spaces, and large, swiveling ears take in the surroundings without needing to twist his head.

A stark-white pelt envelops the young buck. Red eyes are often as wide as they can be and his twitching nose tries to supplement his ears on taking in every bit of information they can. Every sense works in tandem to deliver him to precarious safety he's so often found in.

Old age has yet to touch the rabbit. Blessed at around a year and a half, he's spry and in his prime, muscles wound up to spring and motions sharp in his actions.

When he speaks, he's unsure, uneasy, its voice mirroring his flighty expressions and motions. Every step is careful. It's almost as if he's unaccustomed to the light that's claimed his fur from birth, or so he thinks.

and she smiled and she said "I thought chivalry was dead".
I just smirked, passed her by, failed to catch her eye or her name

but I thought about her on the bus ride home
as I marveled at the raindrops caught on my eyelashes

According to himself, the rabbit has no name. He's grown up among peers as a subordinate, taking a mate once and living life to the fullest. But now, he's thinking, and that, for some reason, doesn't frighten him as much as it should.

The blessing is strange to him. Do the rest of his burrow-mates think like he does? They don't seem to, despite his incessant bothering, and even seem afraid of the noises he can now make. They don't understand. Would they ever?

He doesn't think on that. Instead, he turns his mind to protecting them, acting like the shepherd of a flock. Much of his time is spent outside of his warren to watch for predators, spending life as he used to, albeit just a little differently.

After all, he's simply more advanced. That doesn't mean he has to change the small perspective he's got.

The unknown frightens him. Here, among his burrow, where he loves the family he's grown up in, he's safe, and it's where he wants to stay. He's built a life- even if it's been short- that he's willing to keep to with pleasure.

tapped with an impatience I'd nothing to be home for
a growing irritation wishing I was braver

and I thought of all the times I said that I would mend
find out what it was I’d lost that could make me good again

and I wandered in my hopes, got lost in my regrets
as I leant against the window and drew patterns in my breath