I ride on this bus everyday
It has become a habit-
From which I couldn’t seem to get away.
I could think of a thousand excuses
But I get on the bus anyway.
The backseat is my favorite.
Whenever I can I take it.
But rarely does that happen
Because often than not, it is taken.
So I take the seat unoccupied
Usually beside someone-
From whom I’d rather hide.
It could have been beside anybody
To whom I can confide.
I have thought of getting out of the bus many times and
of not getting on it at all- at times.
But I get too scared so I stay put
But how I wish I could advance a foot.
The bus is not that bad.
On many occasions I do enjoy the ride.
I have become acquainted with familiar faces-
that have become to me such friendly faces.
But these faces seem to start to fade
Little by little each face starts to wane
The bus becomes filled of people unfamiliar
But to me it’s empty of anything proverbial
So tomorrow I decide not to take it
Surely I will miss being in it
I sit at the backseat of this bus for the last time
And tomorrow I shall take a walk under the sunlight.
