My morning bus to office

 

Daylight floods over…I sit by the window

I see a playful kid by the footpath

He plays along as his mom sits there, begging

I see a group of boys, with yellow, red jersey on

They jog along the lane, active, perspiring

I see an old man, bent on his stick

He stands on the zebra crossing, coughs, looks sick

I see a teenage girl, fit in her uniform

She waits for the school bus, or so as it seems

I see a flower-man everyday round the corner

Someday, he sits idle, someday he arranges flowers

I see a number of people, waiting to cross the bridge,

Some busy in their phone, some just anticipating

I see a group of people sleeping under the highway,

A small baby crying, his father cold, unswayed

I see a group of vegetables-selling people,

 I see another few, buying the vegetables

I see a hurried man, just missed the bus

He waves his hand in exasperation and fuss

I see a labour guy, looking at nothing in specific

He wears a torn cloth, holds a broken brick

I see a mother, kissing her daughter’s cheeks

A baby boy, delighted and shrieks

I see two grown man, quarreling like kids

I see two kids, staring at them, wide-eyed, freaks.

Sometimes, I see the trees, the flowers,

The calm water, the blue sky,

flowing clouds, the playful sun

the shadows and the light that play and fight

the breeze that make them shiver,

the thunders that make them quiver

I see a lot of things and I see nothing in between

I see the things seen and I see beyond the things

The bus halts, the story stops

I collect my stuff , the thread of thought lingers…