encounter

His white suit a stark contrast to the city grime,

his bow tie, pressed and sitting tortly.

His fragile and nervous frame no competition for the hostility of the people around him.

He holds the paper like a precious book,

and although full of trivial facts,

a ritual read I am sure he carries out each day.

The cattle cart arrives swiftly and he glares at it with dread;

hovering like an anxious toddler over a first step.

He slowly approaches the carriage and takes one step towards his destination. He closes his eyes, trying to ignore the heat and stench that he is confronted with.

The city has changed, but this man has not.

His grace and class clear from a far,

his age evident from the curly white eye brows and wrinkled cheeks.

His love of the buzz not deterring him from the grizzly transport.

This gingerly man is someones grandfather,

and puts my demeanour to shame.

I close my eyes and ignore the heat and stench that surrounds me.

I just don't think I look half as composed as this man standing beside me.

The stop approaches and his eyes meet mine.

I smile at his crumpled face,

and he nods his head towards me as I leave the carriage.

What a wonderful encounter with a true London gentlemen.