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