Thursday, February 27, 2014

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.

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