Bussing to Work
Sitting on a boring bus to work,
I dream and stare and read,
grey morning light suffuses us,
we users of this beast
Stops come and go, take people on,
and deposits those who leave.
For destinations unknown,
and of no interest, to me.
Work lies ahead, sleep stays behind,
My missed compatriot.
And you are on your bus to work,
Missed more yet than that.
You sit there in your grey lit suit,
I hope you think of me
Minutes away, so close behind,
I left you on our stop.
Waking up in your arms, so warm,
Still all I want to feel
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