Ode to the Bus Driver

April 13, 2008
I start my day with your smiling face,
You open and close the doors with grace.
You wish me ‘good morning’ and I take my seat.
Then you start off, right down the street.

Never venturing from your route,
You’re always kind and never shout.
You stop for those waiting and pick them up,
You sip some coffee from your cup.

Though I’m distracted, eyes out the window,
You’re focused, taking me where I need to go.
The uniform you wear looks crisp and new,
It’s a subtle shade of cerulean blue.

I press the shiny yellow tape,
You pull over, it’s my escape,
I slip my money into the slot,
You hand me my change, which I almost forgot.

You stop to let me cross the road,
And carrying my heavy load,
I nod my head and give a small wave,
Appreciation, for the ride you gave.

Back to the road you now must go,
Watching the cars and people below,
You sit up high in the driver’s chair,
And start on back towards Harvard Square.

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