People On the Bus
Ladies sitting on a bus with nothing much to discuss
Just the daughter’s wedding and the fuss
As another passenger gets on the bus
The sales are on “jeans and tops” she declares
Now she really got a bargain there
Idle chatter without any meaning
While I sit on the bus idly dreaming
The faces telling so many tales
For the working man there are no cocktails
There isn’t a stretch limo for the poor
Or even a taxi that’s for sure
People like the bus on a roundabout
Accepting not protesting with a shout
Being jostled and pushed by the crowd
Like automatons nothing proud
Accepting mediocrity like a shroud
A pimply young youth out for a lark
A man who for forty years has been a clerk
Both chatting together looking at an advert
Exciting young escorts for the convert
A child tries to sneak on for free
The driver on the lookout uniformed tyranny
A cashier from Woolies, who’s name is Shirl
Her companion trying to give her a whirl
Two excited students chatting in Chinese
As the driver says ‘Lady pay your fare please”
The woman embarrassed shows her pension card
That’s all she gets for working so hard
On the production line in the factory at Pritchard
The old drunk with sacred flask in pocket
When emptied, his courage soars like a rocket
The Greek on his way to his second job
The giggling girl and her latest heart throb
A constant blur of humanity filing in and out
Never the rich or the ones with clout
Just the deprived the old and the thrifty
Over the years a sea of ever changing faces
Heading for work, shopping, footie or the races
Humanity squeezed into a fourteen ton carriage
Jostled and bumped in a never ending marriage.
Copyright © Lizzie Treetop | Year Posted 2011
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