Stranger in the Glass

Rain-spotted glass, a bus lurching past,

a face blurred in the dusk’s cold cast.

Tired eyes that I do not own,

a mouth set hard, a voice unknown.

I catch a glimpse—then it’s gone,

a stranger’s stare, dusk's pale dawn.

The window shakes, image unwinds,

a reflection lost in shifting lines.

Who is this ghost I see today?

A borrowed face I can’t repay.

The glass smears rain across her cheek,

a moment’s glimpse, too brief, too bleak.