The Bus Stop (IP)
By Caldwell
- 332 reads
At Tottenham’s stop in the bright midday sun,
Two old dames wait, and the bus hasn't come.
One shakes her cane, her patience near snapped,
Mutters "All the world seems so terribly trapped".
"This bus is as late as my Arthur was, bless,
The world’s just a blooming old terrible mess”
But her friend, with a grin and gleam in her eye,
Pats her hand softly and says, “Now, don’t cry!
The bus will arrive when it jolly well will,
Try to see life as a magical thrill!
Time rolls along, just as sure as the Thames,
We can fret all we like, or else become friends.”
The other one groans “Oh, though we play by the rules”,
“Life’s just a farce and we’re nothing but fools!”
“If you focus on trouble” says her friend with a smile,
“You'll miss out on the joy that was there all the while.
You can strut and fret on the stage if you may—
But buses and life will mean nothing one day.”
- Log in to post comments
Comments
Poor Arthur!
I really enjoyed your rhythmic rhyme bringing this London bus stop conversation to life despite the fact that it's about the death of poor Arthur.
Turlough
- Log in to post comments
Scarry Scarry Night
I'm in the gutter, but looking at the scars. But, focusing on the positive, I can say that I've been in far worse places.
Turlough
- Log in to post comments
one day the bus will come,
one day the bus will come, the stars gone. or something like that. probably not.
- Log in to post comments
This is our Poem of the Month
This is our Poem of the Month - Congratulations!
- Log in to post comments