Bloody men are like bloody buses-
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.
You look at then flashing their indicators,
Offering you a ride.
You're trying to read the destinations,
You haven't much time to decide.
If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.
Wendy Cope
(July21st1945-)
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Poems!New&Old!
PoesiaI do not own any of these poems, I have found&read from a book I had gotten a while back, they are New&Old, I will give credit to whoever wrote it at the bottom of each one! thanks for reading! Don't forget to vote, comment&share!xx
