Trina's Poetry Junction | home
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Bus Stop
Endless time, trapped in glass
A porthole by the junction pass
Watching hands, movement freezed
Where frantic bustle has now seized
The traffic moves a speedy race
A child follows mothers pace
Horns and noises dissipate
I watch, a prisoner to wait
A metal pole against my right
The roaring monster in my site
Up off the art collected bench
My money in a tighter clench
It stops! The open door awaiting haste
We're off, for there's no time to waste
Crammed and shaken in this box
Transported back ~ a paradox
