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by Hema S SuraHer
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I saw her standing 

At the end of the coach

A bottle in her hand

Alone in the crowd.


The other Shes stare at her

She averts their eyes

She looks out of the door

To keep herself occupied. 


She is still standing 

Refuses to sit down

We reach the last stop 

And our eyes meet.


She adjusts her bag

With a sweet smile

A gentle nod

She gets down.


Now, I look out of the doors

Awestruck is the word

For I see a lot of 

She's waiting for her.

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