My life is like never ending bus ride.
I was nearly always free,
With two or three passengers
That got off after couple of stops.
I remember how you got on the bus
One hot July day.
And I prayed to have you.
To have you with me forever.
But I am not a driver.
That's probably why you left too soon,
Oh,
So soon.
You pushed the button
Driver
(not me as I said, unfortunately)
Stopped
And you stepped out leaving me behind.
Now,
I do not even bother
Putting my bag on the seat beside,
Letting strangers sit in your old spot
With no intentions to stay.
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Heavy time, heavy metaphors
