Seems I missed National Poetry Day yesterday somehow. So belatedly, here is a silly little poem I wrote whilst waiting for a Megabus after several sleepless nights, still drunk from the night before, and longing for solitude. Feel the romance. Bus stop distraction #23 She fills the miserable midwinter morning, with her sickly sweet perfume, And overly cheerful chatter, like it’s a summers afternoon. She knows nothing of my story, but seems determined it be told, She’s searching for words that aren’t leaving my mouth, it’s like she’s panning for fools gold. I combat her aroma with the days first cigarette, and try to smile politely as we stand there in the wet, But my mind is on this poem now, and my heart it’s in a song, About another lonesome traveller seeking somewhere they belong. We are each of us alone here, with nothing much to say, Yet one if us keeps talking, for upon silence she preys.
Posted on: Fri, 04 Oct 2013 12:33:27 +0000
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