Some of them were scary.
Some of them were lairy.
Some drank beer and discussed women’s breasts
Although they never used such prim terms.
One wrote about morals, sounds great but,
Never practised what they preached,
When someone with crutches walked by
They wouldn’t offer their privileged seat.
Often people would pick their nose,
Or decide to paint their nails,
Or pick their nose AND drizzle olbas oil everywhere.
Some gave distasteful looks
If you sat too near their luggage.
But despite those few the ones I remember
Are so much more special than that.
The ones I remember showed me, truly,
How amazing humans are.
One guy shared his language,
So I shared mine.
An author scribbled in her tattered notebook,
And asked me never to forget her.
One girl who was my age at the time
Was in charge of designing Bristol town.
One boy was sat reading my favourite fantasy
(Favourite at that time anyway).
One woman was learning Arabic
The form of the words fascinated me.
One kind woman I bonded with
Over the colours in my cardigan
Although we didn’t speak the same language
Our mutual love of colour was universal.
Ofttimes people ignore you
They go about their own business and don’t need yours
But the rare conversations are diamonds and jewels
They are treasures to be remembered.