A Bus In The Afternoon

A poem about an unconditional sharing of experience

I heard three but there were more

languages in play, some silently running 

through their viewpoints of a day so far.

Where we came from was uncertain.

Clouds of intent ,we had drifted from

indifferent mornings to find ourselves

funnelled for a few minutes into this

shared space. Going forward, diversity

meant nothing.For different reasons

we all needed the same destination.

Tony Noon