On the bus

Lovely poem by a charming lady 🙂

Ina

My granddaughter takes the bus with me,
probably her first time.
She is too short to look out
of the window but she doesn’t want to
sit on my lap, she is content
just watching a photo
of the bus that is hanging
in the bus
and the fact that we are there,
in that bus, means
we are also in that photo.
She claims she can see us
and she waves. I see us too.
We drive on and get to know
the essence of travel: to be there
watching ourselves in a bus in a bus.

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