I am
Waiting for my bus
Time ticking
And my head thinking
When will my bus come?
Some are just
Coming and going
Going and coming
Without any space
To put my head or foot
Only leaving me in faith
Waiting for my bus
Who am I?
I really ask myself
Am I the bus stop bench?
Where people just
Come sit and go
Come sit and go
Or I am the broken bus stop bench?
Waiting for the right bus
To come and take me for a repair
Where I will smile through the window
As my bus waves good bye
To my bus station
Stationary I have been
For a long time
Like stationery in
An old bookshop
Rain mudding me
Sun scotching me
Wind blowing me
And cold peeling me
But! Its only one day
When my bus will come
And in celebration
I will reach my destiny.
“The Bus Stop Bench”
#VaChikepe: The Poet
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#februarypoetry/2018/©
Photo By: Pablo García Saldaña
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