Slower Than Most

Slower Than Most

by Bud Lemire on May 21, 2004

On a bus ride

She came inside

And had a smile

Somewhat of a child

She seemed to want to chat

I responded from where I sat

She seemed to be slower than most

A happy spirit inside of a childlike host

She asked my name, and I gave it freely

Then she struck up a conversation with me

She use to be a greeter at one store

But now has a job where she moves around more

I noticed later, she had glasses on her nose

We were talking about where the bus goes

Upon arrival at our destination, we both left

I saw her at the entrance, smoking a cigarette

She wore upon her face, a childish smile

I want to say she’s older, but she acts like a child

She was so happy, doing what she does

She touched my soul, with who she was

I met a woman on the bus ride to the nearby city.

Her response in conversation made me feel she was slower

Than most of us. Something that made her different than us.

She asked my name, and after I gave it,

she’d say my name at the beginning of each question.

I wondered if she was an Angel.

Here I was worried and complaining

About not having a job.

And she had a simple job that most would be disappointed with,

but she was proud of what her role was.