The train passed by me
Like a leaf in the wind
And pretending to keep to myself
I put in headphones
But they played no music
And just when I couldn't feel
Any more empty than I already did
I catch your eyes
Blue eyes
Too blue
With a hint of gold
And my gaze lingers there
One second too long
But a second worth it
Because he smiles
And there are a hundred and one
Hidden messages in that smile
And I look away
With heat pulsing against my face
Because some boy
With too-blue eyes
And a hint of gold
Made me feel a little less empty
And a little more something

While on the bus, he tapped my arm
And asked me for a pen.
I gave him one and realized
I would not see it again.

He looked to be a homeless guy;
The pen was old and cheap
And had he asked, I would have
Told him it was his to keep.

A few stops later, pen in hand,
He found another seat
And never glanced my way again,
Our interchange complete.

I don’t give coins or dollars
When a beggar makes a plea
But the pen request resounded
With the writing part of me.

The passengers were in their seats
When something was announced –
Employees had to fly and so
Four people would be bounced.

Requests with compensation
Met with silence, so United
Chose some “random” ticket holders
To deplane and thus ignited

Quite a controversy, since one man
Just out and out refused.
His ****** removal left him
Furious and bruised.

The gentleman, a doctor,
Had some patients to attend to.
United workers didn’t care;
Nor did they pretend to.

Of course, the scene was filmed
And now those so-called “friendly skies”
Will be filled with cancellations
As the rage intensifies.

Some noises startle, jolt or jar
While others soothe or soften.
We perk up for the new but tune out
Those we hear quite often.

To locals, city sirens make
The tiniest impression
But visitors consider them
A barbarous transgression.

The hum of traffic rolling by
To urbanites equates
With cricket chirps or chickadees
In countryside debates.

The noises that surround us
Are as varied as our homes
Or the subjects and the wording
Of a plethora of poems.

Oh, to be a person who
Stays cool, calm and collected,
Instead of one whose jangly nerves
Has stressing-out perfected.

To be the one who never sweats,
Whose heart won’t race on faster,
Anticipating something wrong,
From trifle to disaster.

I’d like to feel relaxed and not
Stretched taut with fret and worry
And take my time without the need
To feel that I must hurry.

To rationally make a choice
And never second guess it;
To analyze a situation,
With no need to stress it.

Oh, to be that person!
What a joy that it would be!
The only drawback is, of course,
That it would not be me!