In the supermarket car park
I parked my Kawasaki
400 ZRX, new and gleaming,
locked it took the key
and turned to go, when
I was accosted by an oldish chap
who praised the bike and we
exchanged some technicalities;
he’d been a dispatch rider
once, and he asked me if he might
look closer at my motorbike.
“You’re very welcome, but I
will have to go now,
for I’m running late”,
I said. Too late now—I wish
I’d given him my time,
not walked away, but stayed to talk,
for a look of disappointment
flashed across his face, ‘crestfallen’
was the word that came to mind.
I realize now that what he’d really wanted
was a chat, and I had walked away.
This is more mini-prose than poem, but I like it. An interaction with a stranger is often good fodder for creative writing.
Vwry touching. Not too late... someone else who needs the chat will come along. GS
Wonderful poem. I think sometimes the best conversations are the ones we have with strangers just as we are crossing paths whether it's the grocery store, park or at work. I love chatting with people (especially elderly) because I feel like they are such a fountain of wisdom and they love to give you all you'll listen to. Great poem. Sincerely, Mary
Lost opportunities are a wonderful topic for a poet, for there are so many in each of our lives. Thanks for reminding us of the importance of taking time. This is really nice. Raynette
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Peter, this is a good one. I just wish you had listened to what the man had to say. But then, , it's never too late, next time, , i'm sure you will have a chat with someone and come up with other poem as beautiful as this one.