A Seat On The Bus For Rosa (In Memorial) Poem by Luke Easter

Finally, it’s time to go,
All day I’ve pushed peddles with my feet,
I’ll hurry to the bus stop,
Being sure to get a good seat.

There, a chance to rest,
Home, I’m on my way,
Only to get up tomorrow,
And put in another day.

Photos, questions and fingerprints,
Did I commit a crime?
I distinctly remembered when I boarded,
Dropping in my dime.

Why give up my seat?
After working hard all day,
I thought the fare was the same for all,
Is there more I have to pay?

Don’t they know how hard I’ve worked?
To get this seat I had to rush,
Now you’re going to tell me,
Move to the back of the bus.

Wait, I pay my taxes,
Even go to church and pray,
They do not have the right,
To treat Rosa Parks this way.

I never wanted to start a movement,
Just have a seat on the bus,
Being treated fairly as an American,
Why is everyone making such a fuss?

My name is known throughout the world,
In history books here and there,
It really didn’t have to be me you know,
Just anyone who paid their fare.

And over 50 years later,
An Icon is my name,
I’d gladly do it all again,
Circumstances being the same.

Heaven is my final journey,
Can’t wait till I get there,
Knowing I’m going to enjoy the ride,
I’ve already paid my fare.