poetry

Alan catches the silvered bus,
near-to-full with more
than a few overweight women.

He finds himself sitting next to
a schoolgirl, her face surprisingly unblackened,
resting one foot on the other.

She is reading.  He looks over unabashedly,
to his surprise finds neat verse.
She stirs, reaches for her schoolbag

he makes to stand up, she seats him
with a smile.
“Next stop,” she says, putting her book

away and as she calls out her
thanks to the driver, shakes hair away from her face.
The door hisses behind her.

He watches her go, thinking on
his age, and how good it is to find
that there are still

pretty girls, who read poetry.

November ’05

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Welcome…

This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x

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All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

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