It's been years since I caught my local bus to catch the number 8. I hope it wouldn't be much fuss, I hope it won't be late.
Motivation to walk the short journey to the bus stop. The pre journey exercise that'll get my legs working and make my thighs pop.
I wait in line with the masses, all checking phones and day tripper Passes.
Our metal shuttle arrived the que tip toeing to see where there bums may be going
Driver checks the tickets and prints a few out too. I end up sat next someone with a cold, so I hope I don't catch man flu
Eyes staring out windows the speed bumps give us such frights. The scenery isn't much better you do see some sights
There's something about traveling together with purpose from A to B. Some look more relaxed than others, some look like they could do with a cup of camomile tea.
As I step off the bus about to depart, I thank my lucky stars with relief for my secret I have been holding in thank goodness I didn't fart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem