Bus Stop Poem by Donald Justice

Bus Stop

Rating: 3.2


Lights are burning
In quiet rooms
Where lives go on
Resembling ours.

The quiet lives
That follow us—
These lives we lead
But do not own—

Stand in the rain
So quietly
When we are gone,
So quietly . . .
And the last bus
Comes letting dark
Umbrellas out—
Black flowers, black flowers.

And lives go on.
And lives go on
Like sudden lights
At street corners

Or like the lights
In quiet rooms
Left on for hours,
Burning, burning.


Submitted by C.K.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Charles Boyer 06 August 2015

I like the understatement and repetition, turning an everyday sight into something haunting and haunted.

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