Bus Story Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Bus Story
An empty bus is a husk
When it starts on its route, gets into the groove of its journey
Its rattling sides begin to prattle with chatter

There are hurried goodbyes and hellos
There are foreign tourists come to stalk the Royals
Ticking their to-do boxes, like lists of shopping

In summer, women sit with baskets of eggs
Hikers and cyclists cram the boot with their gear
The Bens and the river that flank the twining road
Slide by like friendly kin, with lovely faces smiling

After dark, the passengers change type
Weary workers come on, go off shift
From service industries in pubs and B & Bs

After the dances end, drunks sit at the front
Tugging at an open whisky flask like a teat
On the back seat, courting couples
Like vampires, chew each other's necks
Inflicting bruises for gossips to spread tomorrow