Life in the Medium Lane
Despite being perhaps eighty years old,
she arrives faithfully at dawn each Wednesday,
along with the employed contingent.
A vision in purple,
she floats in from who-knows-where,
all flounces, ruffles and messy buns.
Oblivious to us all,
to the route, the speed and the inconvenience,
she doggedly pursues her sideways journey
to nowhere, before vanishing once more.
As a woman on a mission,
I view her with equal measures
of annoyance and admiration.
I do not believe that age
affords her the right to ignore the rules,
yet I cannot help but applaud
whenever I see it.
That, I can get behindó
as long as it's OK to overtake!