The Most Beautiful

A young woman sits alone
silently weeping on the bus
like a flower
prettily wilted
against the windowpane

So he sidles over
in that funny way he has
so British and proper
buttoned up tight
sits next to her, leaning over
and confidingly says

“I’m sittin’ next
to the Most Beautiful
girl in the world!”

No pickup or come-on here
only innocent opinion
stated matter-of-fact
like a little child

“Not like” she mutters
and instantly regrets it
without looking she can feel
the bewildered hurt
upon his face

So they sit in silence
the rest of the ride
side by side
hot shame flowing down her face
calm confusion clouding his

Some time later
he steals her hand
insistently says- “I am!”

And swallowing hard
she squeezes his hand
wordlessly leaving
the Most Beautiful man
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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Mcferran Avatar
August 7, 2018 at 1:37 PM
Thanks for the comment! I'm glad the "tenderness" translated through...
Evans Avatar
August 7, 2018 at 11:59 AM
This poem has a fragile feel. If not for the tenderness within this could easily have been the usual come on.
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