City
By M. F. B. Porter
A bright red bus drives down the street
While people shuffle and cars beep
The breeze picks up but the tides don’t change
Leaves float by and people estrange
Children grow up and the sidewalks crack
Friends move away and never come back
Photos are taken and hung on the wall
Lives carry on, on nothing at all
Seasons pass by, fast under feet
And a bright red bus drives down the street.
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