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Medical laboratory scientist, visual artist @ Lagos
Strangers with History
<p><span style="background-color: transparent;">Same bus, same road, same trip,</span></p><p>You always sat in the same seat,</p><p>wearing that same expression</p><p>happy, witty, cheerful</p><p>as if you knew everyone on board.</p><p><br/></p><p>Shy me,</p><p>I would just steal glances,</p><p>watching you laugh with an old man,</p><p>or sing nursery rhymes with a schoolgirl.</p><p>You were the best part of the ride</p><p>And mine, even though I only watched,</p><p>too shy to say a word.</p><p><br/></p><p>One day the bus was quiet,</p><p>though the engine still roared.</p><p>You weren’t there.</p><p><br/></p><p>Then, two stops later,</p><p>you joined.</p><p>“Hello, can I sit beside you?”</p><p>I answered reluctantly,</p><p>excited but too shy to admit it.</p><p><br/></p><p>You didn’t say much,</p><p>but your warmth loosened my tongue.</p><p>I spoke more than I ever had.</p><p><br/></p><p>When I got off, you said, “See you later.”</p><p>Later wasn’t the next morning</p><p>it was that afternoon.</p><p>God knows my heart skipped</p><p><br/></p><p>We didn’t take the bus.</p><p>We walked</p><p>the kind of walk that your legs forget to ache</p><p>the kind that makes you wish</p><p>home was ten thousand miles away.</p><p><br/></p><p>Same trip, same bus, same road,</p><p>but a different me.</p><p><br/></p><p>Rides with you became something else.</p><p>You were still the sparkle in the bus,</p><p>but the only star in my sky.</p><p><br/></p><p>You’d save me a seat beside you,</p><p>and if it was taken,</p><p>you’d stand with me.</p><p><br/></p><p>We’d drop at your stop</p><p>just to walk hand in hand to mine.</p><p>I met your mum, your dad,</p><p>and you became the song</p><p>on my sister’s lips.</p><p><br/></p><p>Cunny jokes only we understood,</p><p>stories meant for my ears alone.</p><p>You became part of me.</p><p><br/></p><p>Same bus, same road, same trip,</p><p>but a different you.</p><p>I can’t begin to trace</p><p>where our rails diverged.</p><p><br/></p><p>It’s more than the silence</p><p>because now you miss the bus.</p><p>It’s the silence in my heart</p><p>that once held your laughter and jokes.</p><p><br/></p><p>The roads used to be our meeting point,</p><p>and you knew every turn</p><p>Google Maps was nothing compared to you.</p><p><br/></p><p>Now, what changed?</p><p>I never got to know.</p><p><br/></p><p>Same road, same trip, same bus,</p><p>but a different you.</p><p>When our eyes finally met,</p><p>after three weeks apart,</p><p>I realized</p><p>I was looking at a stranger</p><p>with my history.</p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p>
Strangers with History
By
Oluwadamilola Adesina
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Oluwadamilola Adesina
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