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
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