Poem -

In the Bus

The bus is a concentration of life:
We're all stuck here, waiting our turn in patience and strife
in a closed space of closed minds that make my stomach churn.
At times is stops and opens to let me in
on the fact that there's a World that is and has been
but that won't be,
for future is naught but the echo of reasons and too much thought.

Like 0 Pin it 0
Log in or Become a Member to comment.