Another Poor Bus Soul By Sinead McKeever The street is still The air is biting My frozen finger tips and nose Causing it to wrinkle The lights on the trees twinkle And you are caught in a small wrinkle Of time A fleeting moment Pause Rewind A red man turns green A small man crosses the street And wonders where the rain went Cracked lips And cracked pavement Cracking open so slowly That no one notices Eventually cracking so wide it will cause a black hole and swallow the whole city inside A smile on the face of a small child Is as beautiful as all the seven wonders The sunset over the city I stand upon hope street And wait for the bus My only hope and wish would be to see you again Maybe if there was a dream street I could meet you there and stand under the stars Like before The stars, they shine But your eyes would have the brightest twinkle Caught in a wrinkle Of time Pause. Rewind You turned a light on in me And I can't switch it off It's a sunny part of my mind Of the daily grind A little star to the planet of my heart But it's becoming too heavy in orbit Great heavy space rubble and star dust Let go I must The streets are dirty and old and bruised Yet somehow brand new and glowing too Buses sail along these streets Holding a host of souls and hopes and dreams In its' seats and overhead compartments and Overheard conversations Mind your head, watch your step on the rickety bumpy ride Careful, don't stare, Or make eye contact with anyone God forbid you connect with another human being Another Poor Bus Soul, We're all tired and old inside, Don't you know? Tired and tied to the bus lanes Don't break any social norms This place is already so forlorn, Take it easy, Sail along The bus knows where to go Watch the world whiz by your window Ding We grind to a halt Don't forget to thank the driver As you step out into the world The cruel world and its' liars We're all freezing cold Shivering in our souls. How strange, To connect with another strange human, In this strange world Walk down this road alone And get on the bus alone One small soul amidst a host of ghosts Sit in the shadowy corner and watch the faces The local, the foreigner All united in the bumpy ride The bus moves swiftly The city sailing by your eyes Get off the bus and go about your life Then get on another bus Maybe number five Drive into the night Deep and black And go somewhere else And never come back About the author: Sinead McKeever is from Northern Ireland, started writing poetry as a young child but hid it very well from teasing siblings. Inspired to write by: walking around Glasgow, especially at night, the beautiful and wild Irish/ Scottish countryside and people, funny things friends and random people say, bad breakups, dodgy student living situations, such as: ceilings collapsing etc. Loves spooky things, maybe because born on halloween. Thinks Glasgow is one of the greatest places on earth.
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