recognised on stops along the route.
Snatches of conversations " ... a good funeral".
Damp shakes on a wet day,
or patting down a windy day,
all smiles in the sunshine.
Cigarette smells, cooking smells,
high perfume and the unwashed hoi polloi.
Steamed up windows wiped with sleeves,
or bracingly opened to be closed by frailty.
There's no pleasing everyone.
Move right along now please!
Up and down the bus the seats preferred,
and conversation shared on journeys of the mind.
Sitting back above an infinite range of hair,
and hats and colours and decorum,
the timetabled world goes by.
Happy drivers and grumpy drivers,
noisy kids and kind.
Bells the stages of life, and woes
and so it goes down all the roads
and routes and destinations infatuated
by the bus pass to heaven
for all aboard the skylark.
"Hello dear, how are you today?"
"Not so bad love".
Ding.
No comments:
Post a Comment