Bus Ride

Here I sit in my seat,

Looking out the window is neat.

So many things going past

When will we stop at last?

The next stop comes with a shutter

And none of us mutter.

Few get off,

In a place not so soft.

The bus lurches forward,

As if it is holding a ward.

The view outside is no longer new,

It is causing me to be blue.

I wish I could get out

Before I shout.

Why is it taking so long,

To get where I belong?

©2014 Brady L.B.