Pulling up, braving the rain, Chug of the engine.
Taking me to my destination, Destination love.
Finding the seat, Avoid tripping over shoezone feet.
Bus driver singing, Bus doors miserably swinging.
An audience of familar faces, Destinations of different places.
Let the sound of the engine, Be the fuel of the Orcestra.
Red, Amber, Green. All these roads, look the same to me.
Furious rain, Colliding with the window pane,
A Public service yet so private to where we want to be.
Is your Journey to see your love?
For anywhere else, Seems worthless to me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well that sums up a journey on a Rhondda bus alright :) good work Rachel