A shy oval face, overshadowed by large rimmed glasses

Making his searching eyes everyone’s attention.

Yet no-one seemed to care what was beneath the lens.

He stares at the girl to the side from the far corner

Of his eyes and the corner of the hard seat.

Almost excitedly he watches each turn of the page,

So delicately done by young nicotine stained fingers.

Once he imagined that she looked at him

But then he saw the flicker of her eyes look from the tramp

To the sign above the drivers head.

For years they had gone to the same schools and

He desperately wanted her to know him, a crusade of love.

She didn’t know him but she would understand

And see he was like the man in the book.

A character that had changed his soul.

The bus started to slow down, They were home!

“No, No, No!” he moaned as he saw his hopes dashed

In one rain drenched image

As she packed away the unfinished book

And walk towards the man who didn’t know her.

Ian D. Hall. First published in Greyhound Tales