I really struggled to write this poem, trying out different formats and wishy-washing over the lines. I wish it was easier for me to write love poems, but I’m afraid even this one turned out a bit… odd. Oh well, I guess we all have off days. The inspiration behind this came, yes, from a bus ride I once took sitting across a really cute guy. But I’m not very good at talking to strangers, so even though we took the same route a few times I never said anything. *Sigh* oh the regrets of youth. Enjoy!
These brushstroke mountains and watercolor leaves–city-concert chorus and the flute like breeze–dance altogether in the Fall ballet and set the stage for my Autumn love.
The 3:12 bus and my beating chest: I’ll sit across the aisle and listen to the strains–my hair fiddle-fiddle and foot-tap drums harmonize the heartstrings of my Fall crush.
Headphone beats and flannel shirt, scrunched up lips and thoughtful eyes–bite my lip and play with my hands:
Why can’t I
No Photoshop smiles or Snapchat lives: haven’t spoken, never will–just a bus ride trying not to stare.
Sneaking glances, stealing looks–can’t let you know as the doors open (snap!) and the current comes alive that I’m sitting just in front of you wanting to say hi.
Hustle-Bustle people waterfall down the steps, each passing backpack another closed shutter view.
Everybody passes by, walk between me and you, as we sit across the aisles.
Brushtroke mountains and watercolor leaves paint picture perfect scenes for a first chance at love…if only my words didn’t get stuck.