The night bus 

dropped me off here

nearly seventy years ago,

I watched it go, it’s warmth,

the smell of diesel

and it’s golden windows

disappearing into the night.


It wasn’t long before

the dawn came and I could

see where I was, but it

took me much longer

to work out why I was here.

I’m not complaining,

by and large  I have

risen to the challenge,

it wasn’t always easy

but I’ve had a lot of help,

now when I sit in the evenings

I sometimes think I can hear

the old bus coming to pick me up,

growling over the distant hills.


It’s got a way to come yet

but still I find myself

checking my pockets

to make sure I haven’t

lost my ticket.