With a bustle and headbutt against the window –
We all began our journey.
For some that dream lied on the surface
Like the bedsheet that covers the ocean’s wishful waves.
However, theirs were often watered down and way too mediocre.
For others that dream lived in the clouds –
In the baby blue pillow of the sky.
However, theirs were way too high – like mindless visionaries.
The dreams were scattered all throughout streets,
The offices,
The skyrises.
But as the wheels on the big yellow bus
Went round and round.
I found myself on middle ground.
My desires weren’t in the cloud’s improbability –
Nor in the water’s shallow ease.
I was unsure of my calling as the rest progressed to their destinies.
The driver reached my destination with a red octagonal “STOP”
As if the bus knew of my uncertainty – and it willingly did mock.