The City Shepherd

P. S. Wilson

If I was waiting for a tram
By judge's Corner or at the Bay
And you came by,
We'd go together down the street
And watch the hours fly.

In a myriad travellers' features,
Various as my mind's sight,
The hours would pass,
And each small second have meaning
Or a joy for us.

And my coin would then be honoured
By the quick and sudden glances
You would not see,
Though through me you'd know truly
We had come safely through.