The morning city bus:
She squeezed past me to alight
leaving behind a book,
well read, I judged –
unusual as most commuters
sit or stand comatose, ears plugged,
in the world of Android.
The traffic sludged to walking pace;
we were nearing the terminus.
I saw her on the footpath,
walking fast to catch the bus again.
She returned to her seat.
I handed her the book.
Quickly she checked and found a card in it.
I’d seen it but had not read it.
She thanked me,
smiling with moist eyes.
“It’s from a dear friend,” she said,
“It keeps me alive.
I don’t have long to live.”
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