Bluebird

From a dark neglected city station
a bus was I to ride.
The Campsie Hills it’s destination
a Bluebird on it’s side.

Inside on seats red and worn
I watched the passing scenery.
Streets turn into country lanes,
concrete into greenery.

The bus soon stopped, I stepped outside
and with wonder looked around.
At this another wandering world
this natural paradise found.

For this was not back home amidst
the violence and the fear.
Of laughing adult screaming heads
gulping back the beer.

Rivers and streams, fells and falls.
I looked at bluebird high,.
at buzzing haze, the streaming gaze
of a bright blue loving sky.

And though I did return back home
another life I had seen.
Another life which could be mine
in truth and hopes and dreams.