ANGEL	He pushed the branch to one side and peered through the gap in the leaves, his old eyes straining to focus on the shadows gliding across the brightly lit windows. The orchestra stroked each note to perfection. He could just make out the tune, it was 'Smile', a song written in the early 1900's by his childhood hero- Charles Chaplin. The innocence of the occasion brought back memories of a time long gone, a time the shadows in the window were trying to experience themselves. He felt sympathy for them as they would have to step back into their own time soon. The feeling soon left him as he remembered his own circumstances. Sky blue eyes on a cloudy face A silent angel in a rowdy place A lonely girl in a world so cruel trapped by the love of apassionate fool.	Every now and then I can't help looking up and yes he is still staring at me. My attention is drawn away by a girl sat a few seats diagonally in front of me. No one else on the bus seems to have noticed her. Her skin is ghostly pale and she either looks very tired or is still stoned from the night before. Her eyes are sky blue and although she is dressed scrappily something draws me to her. She looks up and I go straight back to the notebook. I look again and realise that I am doing to her exactly what that brat opposite me is 'still' doing. Sometimes I see a girl who is either stunning or rather sexy and one word springs to mind- helloooo! This approach does not seem applicable in this case. I imagine her laugh and a long interesting chat over two bottles of Newcastle Brown. She has a certain something which I cannot quantify right now.
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