As The Dusty School Bus Passed Me By

Written by: regina branham

I was eight...
always late,
as the dusty school bus
passed me by.

she was one;
I couldn't let her cry
as she waited for our 
mom.

I moved her crib
into my room...
to comfort her
should she awake

He was seven
and asked if I knew how
to clean his dirty clothes

I filled a sink, 
scrubbed his jeans 
and washed the dirt away

They told me they were hungry;
I made sure 
that they were fed

I was eight,
always late...
as the dusty school bus 
passed me by.