Thursday, August 2, 2007


Through the bus’s grimy windows,
I watch Summer take her seat,
Her sunkissed face in profile,
Children laughing at her feet.
The driver pulls the handbrake
And the bus moves slowly on,
Till its lost among the traffic,
Till the final glow has gone.
Then I turn with misty eyeballs
To the old man at my side
And I clap him on the shoulder
And I fall in with his stride.

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