ahead of me
on the late bus to Bristol
the woman leaned her head
upon the rain-smeared window
and surrendered herself to sleep
I was reading,
no, fighting through
a novel an ex had given me,
when grace feathered my hands
wisps of a ponytail,
the ends of ten golden inches,
kissed my book-cradling fingers
I held pose
as if meditating
until her awakening
-Tony Press, Right Hand Pointing
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Tagged: bus, bus poetry, mood, mood poem, ode to riding on the bus, poetry, rain, reading on the bus, riding on the bus, right hand pointing, Tony Press poem
Coffee and Irony 
Well, then, hello! Thanks for sharing my poem “On the Late Bus.” I’m happy to see it here.
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You’re welcome! I really love it, it’s so crisp with such a strong mood.
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Reblogged this on Site Title.
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