The old lady shook as she gripped the pole on the bus,
The little boy stared and stared with the ignorance he’d been given,
No-one helped her, no-one seemed to care,
Except the lady in the socks with the pink stripe, that matched the pink stripes in her trainers,
Who kept holding out her arm, each time the old lady trembled and lost her footing,
As if to say “I’ve got your back, don’t worry”
The old lady didn’t see, but it didn’t matter, that hand, that invisible gesture, spoke volumes that day,
As to what kind of person the woman in the pink stripes was,
Amazing what you can pick up on the way to town on the bus.
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