The girl on the bus.
Sitting there.
Our eyes would meet,
then slowly
drift away.
Like the summer breeze
on a blooming hill.
Her blue eyes would find
my green
across a sea of faces.
Rewarding me
with a soft smile.
I will take the bus tomorrow.
Update: After I wrote this
sort of poem, I bumped into
the girl in question a couple of times, and we've become
good friends. After sorting out she's actually a lesbian,
at the moment, that is.