Just Another Rainy Day

A cold and miserable day, that's all that it was. My hooded jacket did little to keep me dry in the downpour. I was waiting for the bus, just like the dozen other people there. There was nothing to make me stand out. Nothing to get me noticed. At least, I didn't think so. Yet, for some reason, you stood next to me, sharing your umbrella. You never said a word, and neither did I. I hardly dared to look at you, even though I wanted to see your face. As the bus tarried, I felt my cheeks grow hotter. Thank goodness my face was hidden under my collar. Finally, the bus arrived. It was over ten minutes late, I swear. The crowd pushed ahead of us, but you remained by my side. Trailing behind the group, I climbed up the stairs and paid my fare. As I pulled off my hood, I looked back... You weren't there anymore. I don't know where you went. Were you just a stranger... or my guardian angel in disguise? I really don't know. All I know for now is, God was watching over me that day. It feels a little sad, though... I just wish I could have thanked you. Even so, as I stand here in the crowd, waiting for the bus on another rainy day, I feel the gentle splashes on my face, and smile into the sky...

Constructive critiques appreciated!

Reviews

• 
  Lad
  August 28, 2007
  
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  An honestly told small story in a poem.

  I like it, Goldmare. It has a simplicity and plainness of language that's appealing and just right, I think, for the little incident that it tells me about. It's not profound, but I don't think you meant it to be; it's like a meditation on someone who showed you some unasked for kindness.
  
  Funny, isn't it, how those events happen to us all of a sudden sometimes, and we're not ready for them; we don't even have the presence of mind to show a bit of gratitude - maybe that's because, when we feel sometimes like there's "nothing about (us) to get (us) noticed", someone DOES notice, and we're stunned. In my opinion, I think this poem doesn't try for more than would be justified by what it tells; it starts out small and, thankfully, stays that way. Good poem. Honest.
  
  The second-last stanza almost (almost!) made me wince. Jeez, I thought, I hope the poet doesn't try to make this little incident into a miracle. But you didn't do that. The final stanza brings the poem back down to earth; the stranger's kindness only made you look up into the sky "and smile." Nice.
  
  Developing this into a short story sounds like a fine idea.
  
  Lad