A poem inspired by a bus ride on the way into work - one day, it seems like years ago!
Morning Bus Ride
Beauty, its question marks
Curled by the mirror, too full of sun
And memories of once forever desire.
A statue with broken eyes, she
Pouts and pores over her image,
And puzzled will makes dark analysis
As deep as zero and dark as depth;
Until the bell rings and we pause and
Her hair scatters atoms through light.
All universes die on the commute
Through morning choked
By the tendrils of enterprise.
Destinations reached we file off
One by one, to different feelings,
To unfathomable mysteries of pain.
From my main poetry blog
