Sunday, 13 April 2014


The next day
Was more like a realisation
Than a climatic movement
When I got to the stop
And she appeared out of nowhere
Right behind me,

Splitting the wind
In half with her scent
As she walked towards me
Before sitting down
Almost like she was reviewing
What I was reading
Before she dared to speak,

Sharpening a blade
With her thoughts

Reflecting in the sunlight
That briefest moment
Of interest

Before vanishing without trace
At the next stop.

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