Tales Unsaid

I saw an old man on the bus. He slowly made his way to a seat in the front. Sat there and gazed through the window. Big vintage glasses. A wool green flat cap sitting on his head. Grocery bag by his feet. I was a few rows behind him on the other side of the bus. He took off his cap with a gentle motion. He softly swept his hand over his head, revealing a crown of white and gray hair. I wanted to sit next to him and listen to his stories. I couldn't stop looking, hypnotized by the old man's aura. A good man aura. A life well lived aura.