A bus traveller

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The smoke from vehicles rises in the air.
The rain droplets chime against the window pane , racing against each other.
I see the world to loose its colour I loved.
The bus with its usual cacophony carries me to my home.
My home. The home, which is warm.
A lonely traveler like me cries for warmth.
Warmth kisses him while I sit lonely in the bus for home.

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