Bus Poem by Nabeel vanimel
Bus
The trees and homes are come with me
The flies and birds are run with me
I think they are come with me
when i am on a bus...
It s going like a fire
checker buying the fair
travellers with fear
i thougt i am so far
the Bus is going... Going...
Like a fire
Friday, August 12, 2011
Topic(s) of this poem: fire
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8/28/2026 4:25:47 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
