Taxi Driver

Taxi driver, You don't know who you do it for Every day, in and out The eloping couple, The rushing artist, The drunken businessmen, Strangers who might've once been friends in a past life, Now bound by the bustling busyness of our modern-day To take a few deep breaths in the shabby backseat of your taxi To think of their failing marriage Or their dinner plans for the night And you, navigating your amber-coloured agent Through the city The suburbs The almost country-side The city, again To take them to their harbour Is there something worthwhile in that mundane monotony? I wonder.