Waiting for the Bus:An Observation

A weathered wrinkled face

the ploughed-in years,

A trapper hat covers his ears

strange old man from India;

they’re just like like me and you

they are only human too

But,

how he stood out in that bus queue

that quiet man from India;

He put out his arm

as the bus drew in,

Herringbone clad

brown bony and thin,

and from his scarf tousled neck

he lifted his chin

that tired old man from India.

(Copyright in this work has been asserted by the author,Martin Nicholson)

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