THE MAN WHO SAT BEHIND ME

THE MAN WHO SAT BEHIND ME

I boarded the bus and took my seat.

Behind me someone ate a sweet.

I turned around and there sat a man.

He smiled as our journey began.

How are you, has your day been good?

I smiled and said, yes, as it should.

How about you, are you going far?

He smiled and watched each passing car.

I have been here for quite a while.

He said those words with such a smile.

I thought his journey had been long.

But I had got it very wrong.

We travelled slowly down the lane.

Then reached a crowded stop again.

People boarded, one by one.

Our quiet little chat went on.

Are you going far, I said.

He smiled and slowly shook his head.

I turned away for just a while.

Then turned back round to see his smile.

But suddenly the man had gone.

I stared and wondered what went on.

A man with a big beard sat there.

Looking through the window without a care.

I scratched my head and stared again.

Where had gone that friendly man?

The bus had moved, it had not stopped.

Yet somehow he had simply gone.

The conductor came to take the fare.

I said, could you come over here?

There was a man sat in that seat.

Smiling, talking, eating a sweet.

Now he has vanished, disappeared.

And in his place is this man with a beard.

The conductor smiled and looked at me.

I know exactly who you did see.

That man was Jim, he quietly said.

But many years ago Jim died.

He worked these buses every day.

And never really went away.

This was his bus, this was his route.

He knew every road, inside and out.

People still see him now and then.

Sitting there like he did back then.

He watches quietly from his seat.

Sometimes smiling, eating a sweet.

Then suddenly Jim disappears.

Although he has been gone for years.

I sat there silent, quite amazed.

For several minutes I just gazed.

Then soon the bus came to my stop.

I stood and gave one final look.

I stepped outside and waved goodbye.

Hoping once more to see that guy.

But through the windows, nothing showed.

The bus just carried down the road.

I never saw that man again.

But still the memory does remain.

And when an old bus passes me.

I wonder if Jim is there to see.

Was he really sitting there that day?

Did I watch him simply fade away?

I know what happened, I know what I saw.

It does not half make you think, does it?