Somebody is always,
always baking bread. It’s
been that way for thousands,
thousands of years.
Additionally, if life
is short, then there is
no such thing as
a long bus ride.
In conclusion, the bus
rolled onto a street
of shops, and we smelled
bread, baking; baking bread.
Copyright 2007 Hans Ostrom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nicely written factual poetry here, i like your point of view