The African Journey

At six o’clock Already at the bus station Not much. Just a tree to provide enough shade in the blazing sun And little protection when raining Six o’clock Can be an hour earlier Could be an hour late Or could just be in time The bus never punctual never certain Finally there is a sound And massive vibration of the ground At last the bus has arrived But full as usual We will have to stand Maybe halfway Maybe all the way But finally we get there And as usual grandma is there, Smiling, Waiting for us.