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.