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And The World Flashes By
The bus rumbles up to its stop
Black, basic, blazoned numbers of 239
Tip-tap down the plastic stairs
A group of grandparents get off
Though they move at a snail-like pace,
Before long, you and various kids board.
Before long, coins clink into their box.
Before long, you are seated, and the journey begins.
The bus is filled with chatter, locals telling you:
“The food here is to die for!”
“This park is the best for pictures, you know.”
Yet you never forget your decisions are yours alone.
They meld into the background, and you decide
Standing might be better for you.
The bus rocks to and fro, and so
You grab the cool metal pole.
It grounds you, leaving you free
To watch the landscape flit by.
Parks and ponds give way to an urban jungle;
Suddenly, it’s not just the view you’re seeing.
Years pass just as quick as the trees,
And your heart aches for times long gone.
“Destiny Drive,” a tinny voice states.
Ah, you’ve arrived at last.
The bus rumbles up to its stop,
And you deboard with the wisdom of your years.
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The inspiration for this piece was an image of an old man riding a bus and looking out the window, and it gave me the idea of a man riding the bus of life; from his birth (current location) to his death (his destination), he glances out at the passing scenery, which is implied to be his life experiences.