Life Restated

I saw a teenager on the 42 bus, An older teenager, tall and thin, He boarded a few stops after me, And i thought i knew his journey in. He looked like a CS student, As i had been in my older teens, Or at least an engineer, long hair, For programming he had beans. The bus ended up at King’s Buildings, And passed the university’s central block, So i guessed he was going into the lab, The computer lab where he would dock. That journey time in the long evening, Was so peaceful and dynamic most times, That I could reflect to rhyme, consider, The meaning of life, freedom and signs. He took his jacket off some way in, As i sometimes would in my wheelchair, When i peddled along to the Boyd Orr, Against the flow of students with day air. Going into the lab at night regularly, Made you different in culture and society, But on your initial journeys you realised, That you have equal worth and propriety.