The Bus

By
Whoosh.
Here I go again.
I can already feel it,
The feeling of being alone,
When you’re enshrouded with people.
I hear the soft murmurs of passengers.
The mother shooshing her child,
The pounding of the rain on the cold metal roof.
I see its past in the worn vinyl seats.
Many faces,
Many people,
All here to get from place to place.
They’d take a car or a cab if they could.
But the truth is they can’t,
Whether they’re too poor to afford it,
Or if the law has kept them from it.
Their faces show the truth,
Draped with sadness and despair.
The bus isn’t just a cheap ticket around,
It’s a cheap ticket out.
Whoosh.





Join the Discussion

This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

esr123 said...
May 17, 2009 at 11:16 pm
The thoughts that went into this poem seem almost too deep for a teenager. I was amazed at the sensitivity and overall understanding of the subject.
 
ginshep said...
May 15, 2009 at 1:52 pm
This poem is very deep and brings out both intense sadness and hope. This author is a deep thinker and seems to understand human despair and need for comfort.
 
TheFab7 said...
May 15, 2009 at 1:51 pm
That is excellent!!! I am so impressed. Great Job!!
 
bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback