The Figure On The Bus Poem by Sinead Hewson

As I stood awaiting, Anticipating
Who the figure was,
The bus came closer,
The figure grew clearer, like a Polaroid picture
Coming into focus.
I knew him.

The bus pulled up,
The figure stepped off, smiled and said hello,
I started to blush,
My heart skipped several beats,
My body temperature rose with the redness in my cheeks.
I looked away.

The feelings that had been stored away so safely,
In the depths of my heart,
Came flooding out into my being:
Anger, Closeness, Freeness,
Love.
I miss him.


I could not look at him directly, so closely.
I stepped on the bus, paid my fare
And made my way to the back,
All the time looking at him
Looking at me as I pulled away
Waving back to him.

My first true love.