The Journey... Poem by john coldwell

I’ve not been on this bus before
And I don’t know where I’m bound
There’s a driver somewhere up the front
But he never looks around.
I’m on it to the journey’s end
Our terminus advances
I don’t know where that end will be
I guess I’ll take my chances

There’s a Jag in the drive as I knock on the door
A polite man opens promptly
Will you come and hear the preacher man?
He refuses, firm but softly
But, only hear what he has to say
At my leaflet now he glances
Again no thanks, he smiles and says
I guess I’ll take my chances

The people on the bus with me
I ask them where they go
Some shake there heads and turn away
Others seem to think they know
I wonder if they have been before
Some take such certain stances
I wish I could be as sure as them
I guess I’ll take my chances

Elderly and sad but she opened her door
And the stranger began to speak
Will you come and hear the preacher man?
A tear falls on her cheek
I lost my husband only yesterday
Well, the preacher may have some answers
Thank you, but no young man
I’ll just take my chances

I’m the last one on the bus it seems
I know I’m getting nearer
It’s getting very dark outside
And the ending is no clearer
The doors are sliding open now
Outside it’s cold and black
I turn, I hear the driver say
No, there’s now no going back

Yes? He said angrily as he opened the door
I coughed and tried to be brave
Will you come and hear the preacher man?
No, nobody comes back from the grave!
O sorry to trouble you, have a nice day
And until somebody does, be gone!
I stood dumb and the door slammed shut in my face
Hey, just a minute, there’s one!