Poetry of SlyM

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To Someone on a Bus

I don't think that we've met before
And doubt I'll see you ever more
But now, across this wet grey floor,
I like to think a good repore
  would blossom if we met.

You look so feeling, kind, and true
Content to walk the life you do.
With sorrow, joy, old thoughts and new,
That I can't help but smile at you
  Though you've not noticed yet.

So why then, don't I simply start
With open mind, and friendly heart,
To make an effort, on my part
and speak to you, of books or art;
  Whatever comes to mind.

There is so much that we cold gain,
So much to pass from brain to brain
And even if you find me plain
It's not as if I'm risking pain
  Or ills of any kind.

There is the chance you'd find me vile
If I'd start chatting with a smile
And then we'd be uneasy while
We rode out the remaining mile
  With turned, unfriendly backs.

But Why? Could not you just accept
Some Kindness? Then the smile that crept
Across your face, when last you slept
Could show, just once, before we stepped
  To our divergent tracks.

It's not like that's what i require
Without which, I would soon expire.
It just might life your spirits higher.
And so, I'll not of speaking tire
  To those I do not know.

And I owuld ask of you who read
My poems; Follow well my lead,
And try to do a friendly deed
E'en if most people fo not heed
  Your simple, kind "hello."

      30.06.03- 12 minutes to type, with Qwerty keyboard.