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Every Day
Every day she sat
opposite you on
the bus looking
beyond you not
at you or turning
her head to some
other view than you
and she would mouth
words silently as if
in some secret prayer
and maybe her god
was invisibly sitting
there and whoever
sat next to her and
that varied day to day
would seem of some
different breed or class
having not her pose or
looks or beauty having
maybe some different
dream or else none at
all unlike she who sits
every day not seeing you
but always looking away.
poem
by
Terry Collett
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