five seven five

by Raine Wynd

Funny, how I can be so moved
by a single instant
a bottomless second of understanding
that I'm reduced to scribbling bad poetry
on the back of my hand as I sit on a cold steel bus bench

Watching the life surrounding me,
passing me by without a backward glance
and never questioning what I'm doing,
all I can think of is haiku in motion
that one breathless moment of a-ha!
in a timeframe frozen forever
to be stored in my soul>

Odd, how the heart is caught
in a single unspoken action
like the way you moved when you turned to smile
and i suddenly heard it drum
five seven five

written at the Seattle Central Community College bus stop