I watched her hop on the bus
with a wildflower in her hair
Not noticing the rude jerks in the seats
she reached up and grabbed a handle
without looking away from her copy of Manifesta
I gazed from behind a stock broker
The flower was blue with heart-shaped leaves
A violet or a poppy, I wouldn't know
She must have reached a funny passage
her smile came and drifted back to a gracious moue
I wondered what struck her as funny
It fell as the bus lurched to a sudden stop
The blue petals glided slowly to the floor
unnoticed among the industrious commuters
not recognizing the exquisite beauty beneath them
Her dark hair now unadorned
I worked my way forward towards her
My hearting beating as a foot grazed the stem
then another barely missed crushing it entirely
it's brushed under a seat to relative safety
The bus clears enough for me to reach it
the wildflower seemed tiny in my hand
I looked up just in time to watch her hop off the bus
still looking intently at her book
I held up the flower against her profile as she walked away
until she ducked inside an old stone church
then I wrapped it in a hankerchief
then slid it softly in my breast pocket
