Bus Stop Poem
Smalltown September Sunday.
Postweek pavements stretch,
thankful as the afternoon sun
penetrates their aching fibres.
An ice cream van , distant
as a lovesick youth ,floats
tunes upon the lazy air
while lunch heavy parents
dig deep to keep kids quiet
while the film is on.
We wait , the dog and me
for a bus that doesn't show
but we are not concerned.
On a day like this we will
walk and enjoy it.
Tony Noon
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