"The Woman on the Bus"
Her hands were small, pruned,
looked clammy, very cold perhaps
with purple seeping up through
her tiny nails.
She twisted the ring on her left third finger
round and round, deftly,
as if she had been doing it for years.
The small diamond awoke in the dim light,
like a beady eye from a dark forest.
What she rethinking everything?
She looked up suddenly,
pulled hard on the brake cord yelling
"Stop!"
and flew out into the night the second the bus
came to a pause.
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