Waiting – Richard Millar 

Every day, 

at exactly 

two-o-clock 

the boy 

on 

the bike 

comes bye- 

He never stops… 

Just pedals past- 

Mudguards rattling. 

The boy 

on 

the bike. 

Does he see me? 

Should I wave? 

If I lift my hand, 

Will he see 

I’m blind?

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