deepundergroundpoetry.com

Bus Stop Buddies

Oh, this shall be the morning
that consumes the last
morsel of my sanity;

my predawn bus stop arrival
met with the chattery
of a fellow with no regard
for the drowsy hours.

Why is he talking to me?

The whistling chirp of a sparrow
slices through his ramblings -
clearly offended by the
chatter that roused him;

or perhaps it was expressing
sympathy for my current woe,

but as I listen to the bird
violently cursing the
gabby gentleman,

I begin to feel like
I made a friend.
TyrannicalWorm
Written by TyrannicalWorm (Nathan A. Brock)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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