On the Bus

Every week day, same time, same bus, he is there, and I’m careful not to stare But I can’t take my eyes off his curly shoulder length hair, hopelessly wondering A face not popularly handsome, but such kind bluey- green eyes, deeper than the ocean Tall, not slender and a quirky style of dress, not to impress. He kept me curiously wondering Briefcase, serious and tanned, but scraggy like a boxers face, taken from place to place Manicured hands with no adornment, no subtle signs of betrothment, I smiled hopefully wondering Today he caught me in my stare, my face flushed pink, I look away I couldn’t think But I saw his smile and for that short while my heart skipped a beat, as I sat motionlessly wondering The bus had halted, where we both alight, my mind was racing as I caught sight Standing on the kerbside, holding out his hand to me, I reached out breathlessly wondering Hand held firm but gentle, and like cheshire cats smiling, arrayment of colours so beguiling ‘Have you time for a coffee’ I heard him say, my reply what a perfect day, still wondrously wondering sdited version, hope it's right this time