In Front of a Bus Stop
At the bus stop, where people gather one by one
After finishing the long weary chores of the day,
I stare blankly at the bus numbers,
Waiting for the one that will finally take me home.
But as always, my bus shows no sign of arriving anytime soon.
When a bus finally pulls up, the waiting passengers
Rush forward in a frantic scramble, eager to claim a seat.
Yet, an old man standing at the very back of the line
Waits with a calm patience, never once rushing.
At that moment, someone brusquely brushes past his shoulder,
Pushing ahead to board first.
I glance around this crowded space.
Lovers holding hands, whispering sweet words to each other;
Elderly women gently patting their aching, exhausted legs;
Men exhaling deep, heavy sighs along with their cigarette smoke;
And those who simply stare into the empty sky, as if they have nowhere left to go.
In this hour, all these drifting gazes intertwine with one another.
At last, the bus I have been waiting for arrives.
No different from anyone else, I hurriedly fumble for my fare
And scramble aboard in haste.
The moment I pay, my eyes swiftly scan the aisles for an empty seat.
By chance, there is exactly one left.
Just behind me, an elderly woman is also preparing her fare,
Her eyes searching the bus for a place to rest her weary body.
Yet, with cold indifference, I rush ahead to take that last empty seat,
And quickly turn my face to stare out the distant window.
The bus starts moving, as if nothing at all had happened.
And inside, the gazes of the city dwellers
Remain fixed, as always, upon the faraway window.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
