One of many ones

She caught my eye,
As I took the next seat.
She might be boring, she might be dry,
But she was giving someone a treat.

The man caressed her back
And smiled as she talked.
At her facts or some wise crack
As she ebbed and then flowed.

I bent down, left and right
To take a peep at her face.
I needed her face in my sight
Or a name to find her place.

He carried her, like his own
And I felt his need to possess.
Of many ones she was his one
A beauty made of many pages.