Matilda II

 She came, a bride from the cities far off
From places known only in name
But her journey was a bouquet of roses
Freshly cut out of time
Or so I thought 

Imagining a red catapiller like bus
Sprawling up and down villages
Pregnant with a budding rose
That would find roots
In the depth of my heart

 
A crawling bus came
Found me brimming with a smile
Almost an overshadow all over the bus stop
Standing as the knight in shining armor
It’s the last bus that came, the bus of promise 

First it was municipal workers in a rush
For hush with their littles ones at home
Swimming out of the bus like bees
Then came the rowdy school kids
Their shoe laces untied in these slippery streets

And last case the pensioners, old grumpy pensioners
Gasping their way out of the bus, out of life
As it roared lamenting its departure
They didn’t smile, they didn’t wrinkle

The bus stop palely stared at the roaring bus
Seemingly more solitary than my lone shadow
That was left with eyes sore in despair
For the rose that never blossomed

But remained seated gracefully in the bus
Starring at me like you would stare a thing
I waited for the morning She rushed for the dusk
And I walked back to my village
Empty handed