Train

August 31, 2014

Our eyes met

over

and over

again.

Ocassionally our glances interrupted by a body or two

blocking our sight.

We were

exchanging shy smiles

out of politeness.

Who saw who first?

I have no idea.

And when he walked off the train

he shot me

a brave grin

that said

you're beautiful and I noticed

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.