Poems by Meg Mack by Margaret Mack - HTML preview

BUS STOP

Waiting, congregating,
Three women standing, loaded down with bags; An old man sitting, with a walking stick,
And loitering in a doorway,
Two young and unkempt wags.

Three old dames sit chattering, One with a shopping trolley.
Another juggles grocery bags, The third a walking stick and brolley.

An exasperated mother with her noisy brood; A teenager talking on a mobile phone, A woman smoking – as she should
Off to the side, alone.

The boy starts to stamp impatient feet. “What’s happened to the bus?” Infant crying, toddler whining. Sarcastic mutters, “Don’t mind us.”

A young man paces nervously And glances at his watch. Then he’s off to find a taxi. This is one bus he won’t catch.

Three jean-clad teens look down the road With anxious fed-up frowns;
Two girls, a boy, each clutching
Ipods and mobile phones.

The bus is late and so we wait. It’s normal on this route.
I’m just thankful that the Council