thinking of....

Bus Passengers

Wipe the sleep from their half-open eyes.
Heat of the night long gone,
Replaced by a rainy July morning.
Moisture seeps through the thin fabric of clothing.

Icy wind swipes cheeks of those waiting.
Frigid air, skin reddening.
Transparent crystals shower upon them;
Splatters on their dropping eyelids.

The bus which screeches to a halt,
Awakens from their stupor.
Stumbling up its steps,
They board as usual.

It's 6.30am on Monday morning.

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