Ghost

Standing there at the bus stop
Appearing like a spirit amidst the morning fog
As the bus turns corner at main street
That woman stands there waiting to board.
You see her, something tugs at your mind
But you cant seem to place it.
She seems like a ghost of the past
Big eyes behind rimmed glass,
Cold and vacant stare.
Small stoic face with fading laugh lines.
She always seems lost to people
Seems like she is one with the cold wind
Materializing out of the misty dawn,
Dragging herself through the day
To dissolve in the purple hue of the dusk.
You want ask her, her story
What were the things that made those laugh lines
Why and where they are fading.
You feel curious, does she smile?
But there she walks straight to the last row
At right corner, she sits and put on her headphones
And she vanishes again in the morning outside.