the bus ride

Not enough time has passed
to find everything new & abyss
less, but sure it has seen a jump
from a child's familiarity to a boy's lonesome.

The time now ignores the boy who
stands gripping the pole, as
the bus zigzags in the city's haste.

Self aware of the 'bus & me',the
passing innocence asks why the violence so,
the faces looking out at nothing
the silence of them & him more so.

Casually still, he checks his father, standing
ahead in the crowd time and so,
wanting to ask 'how long'?

He knows the urge to flight,
back to the garden with the slide,
but he can't just cry for it, now
he puts a grown up face before.

Closing his eyes trying not to show
how he already knows, that the
bus stop will not be different more.

He wants to accept the boy more
alt he fears the confusion will grow.

This is how the boy stands
head high looking out for something.