My Bus Ride Home to Stay
Beneath a sky of fading gold,
Where twilight weaves its quiet spell,
I board the bus, both young and old
Seem folded in its rhythmic knell.
The doors hiss shut with practiced sigh,
A breath released from city strain.
No longer asking where or why—
I ride home, not just again.
The streetlights bloom like constellations,
Guiding wheels through time-worn lanes.
Each passing pole, each blinking station,
Unstitches loss, recalls old pains.
But now the ache has gentler edges,
A tender bruise, no longer raw.
For in these worn, familiar sedge is
The peace I once refused to draw.
No suitcase dreams or overnight stays,
No ticking clock to mark my flight—
This time it's not an echoed phrase,
But roots reclaimed from drifting light.
The mother with her sleeping child,
The student lost in book and thought—
We’re all returning, worn and mild,
To places our true selves have sought.
And as the bridge curves, low and wide,
The river gleams with amber streaks.
It mirrors all I’ve pushed aside—
The love, the grief, the words I’d speak.
Now every bump, each slowing brake,
Whispers: You need not flee again.
The road ahead no longer takes—
It leads you where you’ve always been.
So let the engine hum its hymn,
The world dissolve in shaded gray.
This ride is more than transport, dim—
It's home's first breath at end of day.
I step down where the old gate stands,
Unlocked. The garden breathes my name.
No longer drifting, shifting sands—
I come at last. I come. I stay.
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Author:
Friendship (
Offline) - Published: January 2nd, 2026 05:48
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
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