Back On the Bus

Now back on this bus again, Here the wheels go round and round, I'm trapped between a safe but perilous margin, Ascending strides above the ground, The toll man is coming down the aisle, Here comes my stop because I have no fare, Plummeting in my pockets deeper than the Nile, My hands find nothing but lent and hair, He's cold and emotionless with no care, Now he holds me in his grasp, Only to drop me with a single tear, One thread misplaced in his clasp, He retreats without his toll, I narrowly escape unblemished, He's colder than the North Pole, For now he leaves unfinished, And now back on the bus again, Now the wheels move some more, I know he'll come back for even a smidgen, Only waiting for his encore.