Stop

7:32 every day on the dot
The exact same time the exact same spot
No change in clothes be it nippy or hot
Young lady filled with malady, it troubles me a lot

Unremarkable face though remarked non the less
World of Windsor shoes and a Primark dress
Rushed combed hair signifying signs of stress
Too distressed and messed to simply pass her off with “bless”

Job unknown nor family life or home
Never had the luxury of life chucking her a bone
Never sees me or any other she condones
Facing the horizon of the direction of the bus zone

Later in the day upon my return
A different, older lady intrigues my head to turn
The baggiest jacket not good enough to burn
Same spot, crack pot on her way to earn

There is a secret here I’m yearning to learn

The structure of the face is a pear upside down
The sadness reflects, no tears of a clown
Concentration reserved for when the bus comes around
An answer to a mystery I wish I could’ve found

Wiry hair a greyer tone of blond
Underchin dropping drooping and long
Only one frame i can explain she belongs
Could this be the same lame lady all along?

Never seen the stop without one or the other
Never a companion, lover or brother
Never bus early to take her away?
Living 40 years in my one work day

So stay i do when time is spare
Pitch up and hide and fix my stare
Bus rocks up, no flinch or fare
Another and another no hint of care

Her hair strands die off minute by minute
Attraction fades but not much in it
Mouth folds down not up to grin it
Her eye line rises i start to bin it

“My sir look at what I’ve become
Every night revert to young
I praise the gods that you have come
The curse I carry is now done

“As a cloud or dying tree
A lamppost or a quiet breeze
The only thing to set me free
Is have one person notice me”

My daily trek feels incomplete
The lady’s tones soft and sweet
I saw but thought I’d never meet

An empty bus stop on a street

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