The Wheels On The Bus

The wheels on the bus

Go round and round

Round and round

Round and round

 

Road passes

And change becomes indiscernible

Tree after tree

House upon house

 

This journey becomes

A repetition

And a trundling movement

An endless cycle

And a maddening lack

Of anything

 

Entertainment

Conversation

Movement

 

I try to close my eyes

To dream

But I’m uncomfortable

Too cold

Too warm

Too cramped

 

My feet are numb

My neck aches

And my head spins

Sick of its own complaints

 

This journey has become

A torture

 

But we’re still not home

And there’ll be no respite

Till we are