Sitting here staring out a bus window,
Watching all the cars and people below.
Hustling here hustling there,
Just another work day’s fare.
Faces, all grey and stressed, wondering if they passed the test:
Dark rings and slumped shoulders, the defeated and in need of rest.
Sitting here doing nothing
I’m just sitting here thinking.
For a brief moment my life’s suspended.
The headstrong king temporarily absconded.
Up here everything takes on dimensions new.
U get to see my life in a whole new view.
Thirty minutes, staring out a bus window,
Realising things that I wouldn’t have known,
All cause I’m on a bus staring out the window,
With nowhere else to go.
Lull me to sleep, throbbing engine fades away.
Come now child, everything’s gonna be ok.
My stop’s coming up, don’t make me, please.
But life never listens to our fragile pleas.
Oh why, oh why, do U have to get off here?
I want to stay here suspended in serenity.
Story behind the poem:
This poem was written on a . . . bus. Surprised? I love riding on buses. It makes me slow down for a few minutes and think. Bus windows, they make us think.
Feeling stressed? Go hope on a bus
GZ
Source
Watching all the cars and people below.
Hustling here hustling there,
Just another work day’s fare.
Faces, all grey and stressed, wondering if they passed the test:
Dark rings and slumped shoulders, the defeated and in need of rest.
Sitting here doing nothing
I’m just sitting here thinking.
For a brief moment my life’s suspended.
The headstrong king temporarily absconded.
Up here everything takes on dimensions new.
U get to see my life in a whole new view.
Thirty minutes, staring out a bus window,
Realising things that I wouldn’t have known,
All cause I’m on a bus staring out the window,
With nowhere else to go.
Lull me to sleep, throbbing engine fades away.
Come now child, everything’s gonna be ok.
My stop’s coming up, don’t make me, please.
But life never listens to our fragile pleas.
Oh why, oh why, do U have to get off here?
I want to stay here suspended in serenity.
Story behind the poem:
This poem was written on a . . . bus. Surprised? I love riding on buses. It makes me slow down for a few minutes and think. Bus windows, they make us think.
Feeling stressed? Go hope on a bus
GZ
Source
