The Phantom Bus

The Phantom Bus

A Poem by David Lewis Paget

She didn’t look awfully well that day

Though she never would make a fuss,

I said we should get to the hospital

That I’d travel with her on the bus.

The weather was terrible, snow on the road

And a seaborne yellow mist,

So I wrapped her well in a scarf and coat

And did my best to assist.

 

She leant on me, walked out to the stop

And we sat on the ice cold bench,

I thought for a moment she’d faint or drop

So taking the bus made sense.

The car would be hard to manage that night

For the roads were covered with ice,

I couldn’t hold her while driving the car,

But we needed a doctor’s advice.

 

The cough had got worse as the day went on

And her hanky was spattered with blood,

I prayed it was just a vessel that burst,

Not that I thought it should,

But consumption sat at the back of my mind

It was rare, but still around,

I was praying a lot, but still my head

Would cover the same old ground.

 

We watched as the lights of the bus rolled up

So dim in the mist to see,

A double-decker, we climbed aboard

It was number twenty-three.

The passengers all were grey and drab

And some of them seemed asleep,

A skeleton sat hunched up at the rear

And Kathie began to weep.

 

‘It’s only a medical student’s thing,’

I said, ‘there’s nothing to fear.’

But Kathie flinched as we walked on past,

‘Then why did he leave it here?’

She settled down in a window seat

While I sat next to the aisle,

And the bus rolled into the swirling mist

So we sat quite still for a while.

 

The lights in the bus were more than dim

And Kathie was looking grey,

While I got up at the hospital stop

Kathie was looking away.

Then suddenly I was out on the road

As the bus took off in the mist,

While Kathie stared through the window pane,

It was like she didn’t exist.

 

I ran and I ran, and chased the bus,

But I ran and ran in vain,

For the bus veered off, went over the cliffs

And vanished into the rain,

I found her there on the bus stop bench

Where we’d sat, all grey and still,

And I wept, and thought of the phantom bus

That had taken her over the hill.

 

I could swear we’d stood, and climbed on the bus,

My love, my Kathie and me,

But they said there never was such a bus

As a number twenty-three,

And I see her now in my dreams at night

As she stares through the window pane,

Of a phantom bus that takes her away,

Over the cliffs in the rain.

 

Over the cliffs on a freezing night

When she died, ice cold on the bench,

What was I thinking, I ask myself,

Where was my common sense?

Then I take some comfort to think that I

Had once been a part of us,

And travelled some of the way with her

Where she’d gone, on the phantom bus.

 

David Lewis Paget

© 2015 David Lewis Paget


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Featured Review

I hope I never hop over this phantom bus, which swallowed your loved one. A eerie dark poem. But, I hope that only exists in fantasy.

Your all poems give me goosebumps. and this is not an exception.

But, I will thank you for horrifying me.

Devanshu

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

deep beautiful poem of a lost love traveling on to the next plane of existence...

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I hope I never hop over this phantom bus, which swallowed your loved one. A eerie dark poem. But, I hope that only exists in fantasy.

Your all poems give me goosebumps. and this is not an exception.

But, I will thank you for horrifying me.

Devanshu

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Death was coming and there was no way out or to stop what was to lie ahead, the life that was to end at some point. I wasn't expecting this, but something more on the eerie side, like in the horror movie of sorts. But superb work here.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I believe this was was Death's hearse that had come for Kathie, and she couldn't have escaped riding on it. Apparenlly even Death could show some compassion by allowing the narrator to be her comforter for a little space.

When I saw this title, my first thought was of Kipling's "The Phantom Rickshaw," a chilling tale if ever there was one. Your poem is just as frightening, but in a different way.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

oh such a cold and shivery tale David, remind me to give a miss to the bus number 23, although that's my number, don't quite know why but it comes up a lot in my life and here it is again in your superb writing, of course purely for the rhyme but i can't help but wonder is that bus pursuing me!! I love this one David, one of your absolute best works and that's saying a lot i think :)

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is deftly handled and expertly delivered David. I sat long after I'd finished it - savouring all the different feelings as the words assimilated.
For me personally it had shades of the hauntingly beautiful song 'Under your thumb' by Godley and Creme, which I love dearly, so , both are up there now in my favs synapses.
thanks - I dont know what Im gonna do without my daily DLP dose...

Posted 9 Years Ago


Oh, this reminds me of one of "The Last Of The Summer Wine" episodes, the phantom bus. I liked this write even though it had to end so sadly. You really have deep thoughts that many people are not blessed with. just keep these writes coming. Kathie

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

So heartbreaking and haunting. This one so lovely, with such a gentle and tragic feel to it.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

gives me chills .. and the grief is addicting .. will read again .. you have a marvelous gift of the story and rhyme .. so glad to have met you .. heart breaking .. was with them both the whole way through .. very fine says i!
E.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

a haunting write david but I loved it

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on January 7, 2015
Last Updated on January 7, 2015
Tags: hospital, mist, consumption, blood

Author

David Lewis Paget
David Lewis Paget

Moonta, South Australia, Australia



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