A Real Gent (Poetry)

I met a modern gent today
upon a crowded bus,
he gave his seat up right away —
no pantomime, no fuss.

He merely smiled at my surprise
and offered me his place,
a mild amusement in his eyes
as though he’d read my face.

I nodded my brief thanks to him
and never doubted that
he would have deftly tipped the brim
had he have worn a hat.

But he was casually attired
in studded leather gear —
the kind I’d distantly admired,
though seldom got too near.

I’d long-believed that manners went
with tailoring and style,
convinced the measure of a gent
stood out the stated mile.

But since I’ve found a modern breed —
more difficult to spot
than those who cling to the old creed,
look gallant, but are not!