“Sir, can I help?

You seem tad bit distressed.

Why, you’ve been sitting on that bench

Far more than anyone else;

For whom do you wait?”

The wrinkled, old man,

Waiting on the bus stand

Surprised by the voice of a gentleman,

Looks up with a soft and tired gaze:

“A wisp

Of my angel’s voice

Enthralled

The Devil’s quiet.

And now, I await

Her return.

‘Cause she told me

Not to believe

What we see

On the telly.”

The young man, bewildered,

Takes the Grey

For a loon hinderance.

” Come, sit here.

And I’ll tell ye

All my sister told me.”

A patient hand

Although trembled,

Yet the soft whispers

Danced, unshakable.

“She made me swear

To wait right here.

For the rides in the fair,

We had to go and share.

So, I waited

For her to return

From her red, cumbersome building.

Y’see, I waited for…