The Boy on the Bus
I caught his stare
and threw it back
yet when I looked away
his eyes returned to me
they were not angry
friendly or flirtatious
just empty grey eyes
- I wondered what they saw
had he reached some conclusions
about my age or gender preference?
did he despise me for my suit and tie
or pity me - stuck in the nine-to-five rut?
I shifted in my seat, awkward and uneasy
felt my clothes and my skin peel away
when I looked again, the boy had gone
- his stare stayed with me all day
If you've any comments on this poem, Graham Catt would be pleased to hear from you.