She got off of the bus one stop later, but looked back to regard me from the street
The tightness I'd seen around her eyes was gone, she folded the poem and put it in her pocket ... very discrete
I've never again seen her, nor do I ever really need to, I was there for her at the right time
She had a moment of unexpected happiness by reading what I thought was a simple little rhyme
I knew from her smile that what I do is worthwhile,that it makes a difference
Every poem that I give to a complete stranger has an effect that is subtle, yet immense

Just a short while ago, I started writing a poem for a woman that works at a bar
I stop there from time to time, it's local, like any place, just two steps from my car
I wrote her a poem a while ago as I tend to do for others with some regularity
But, she took it differently, she had never before had someone write her poetry
She charmed me from the moment I first layed eyes on her, and I just wanted her to know
Now, when I come in, she hands me extra napkins when I don't have paper so she can have my poetry's flow

I don't have to do this for her, and I don't feel obligated in any way
Though, when I see her smiling at me after reading my work, I feel elated the rest of the day
I could write anything, something political, another rant about racism, or gender bias
But I don't feel it the way I do when I get random smiles from random people that those topics don't truly encompass
I write a lot, more than almost any writer I know, and with more regularity
And when I want to write for the right reasons, I spread a little bit of happiness with random poetry.

-David "Dingo" Bleecher