A Passenger
A passenger opposite me
In the bus looked at me
His bare face, a rough feeling worn
How may change, with that my own
Looking at him and a small smile by my cheeks
Stagnant image sulks and my smile embarrasses
His face and mind not having deflected
Tells something strange I am confused
Only thing that I have had
It was not, that I think very bad
One more smile came in my face
I could slightly open the lace
A reaction to an action might have not the same
A small turn in inner may be the aim
When I left the bus and him at my time
One thing, looking at me, I saw him
Now I remind what I did
And in return he how did
Both we have to re- think, if need
I’m afraid, who he is
My smile’s cheaper, I always give
Did he think that I am mad?
Or would it be the paradox
If the other looked this box
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