A shy oval face, overshadowed by large rimmed glasses
Making his searching eyes everyone’s attention.
Yet no-one seemed to care what was beneath the lens.
He stares at the girl to the side from the far corner
Of his eyes and the corner of the hard seat.
Almost excitedly he watches each turn of the page,
So delicately done by young nicotine stained fingers.
Once he imagined that she looked at him
But then he saw the flicker of her eyes look from the tramp
To the sign above the drivers head.