Tell me lady,
How many times have you taken this bus?
Down this long dusty road. . .
. . .In the baking hot sun,
Or the Monsoon rain. . .
You always just sat on that seat,
Third row from the front,
Keeping your bag close to you,
You took this bus so many times,
But you don't trust it.
You've been to many roads to ever trust again,
Apart from god.
Lady i see you everyday,
Jump on my bus,
Sit third row from the front,
Whisper prayers to yourself.
Till' your stop.
Always the same stop.
A brown bench, Surrounded by tree's,
On the Boulevard,
Just outside the city.
Everyday.
Tell me lady,
DO you even know where your going?
Do you even know why you dont trust my bus?,
But you trust it's route?
Your don't almost over,
I know that, The way you take those small,
small,
Steps,
to get off the bus.
In those court shoes. . .you stuff your feet in,
They look sore.
My Storys told me
'Mamma judge a man 'till you walked a mile in his shoes'
But i Dont wanna swap shoes with you lady,
They look painful.
So lady,
why dont you just tell me,
What kind of shoes are you wearing?
Author notes
Written December 19th, 2004
What did you think
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1 - 5 of 5
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I like the repeated part of; "Tell me Lady?".
But i'd love it if you could tell me in more dept what the poem was deeply about. (I'm not very good at judging what things mean, and i'd love to know from the person who knows best, - the Writer!)
Love
Me. -
merh all the words messed up NEVER DO A SPELL CHECK!
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lolz this is wicked, shoes is an odd subject but ur points well made an yet another amazing poem elle! well done xXx
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omg, this is amazing! sounds like you got this from real life, well
done! -
This is REALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLYYYYYYYYYY good ellie. . .every poem just gets better and better doh it
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