Poems and Poetry

Crimson Eyes for Blue Times | A Poem by Paul Tristram

I saw her sitting with friends
through the glass of the bus stop.
I crossed the road and entered,
she was weeping.
“Aw, sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

She looked up at me
and shook her head gently,
casting jewels knee-wards.
“You always see me like this,
I bet you’ve never seen me smiling?”

She was wrong, so wrong.

I bent down and kissed her
on her head, reminded her
that she had my number
if she ever needed me
and exited the bus stop.

“Why have you got his number,
he’s one of those punks from town?”
I heard one of her friends ask
as I walked away.

“I know, but he’s the nicest man
I’ve ever met!”
she answered.

I kept on walking,
glancing at the window
of a parked car as I went.
Saw the reflection
of my left cheek
and a bit of forehead only.
The shadows hid my crimson eyes
for these blue times.

Visit Paul at http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/.

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