Shuttle Bus

I was travelling in the bus recently and couldnt focus on anyone conversation or interaction that was going on inside. There was so much communication happeneing right there. Here I was listening to the person next to me complaining about the lack of number of buses in the route, about how bad the civic amenties were and what he thought about the top brass. I heard a lady talking about her husbands job and how late he gets home. Another man was talking to his employer on the phone and telling him about his fathers sickness and details of it. The thought slowly came as to the among of sharing we do in a public space, with strangers and with people just becasue they happen to get the seat next to us or by chance are standing beside us. The bus itself would have been a ear to millions of conversations, just think of the weight of travellers minds those boards hammered in to make the footboard stronger who have had to bear...

The nine o one to the clock
Keeps astep the milling crowd
To hopes of love, happiness and the divine
Never noticing the shuttle so loved
Always a place for me inside

Five planks of wood, a forest itself
Witness to a million lives
A shelter for worn out feet
And gum that always had to hide

Long stories together I have heard
Of children and pranks aside,
With solace, heart break and tears for the lost
A few hundred counts of anger belied

New faces, those I daily visit
All strangers by name left aside
A practice on purpose, none ever asked
For the hour was pleasant within itself
Comfort only a friend can provide

Grandchildren visits, an ailing mother, a win here and there
It was here that one felt free
Burdens left within the sliding doors
Never wanting to be found.

In patience, the time caring for one
A gentle word, a kind hand
A smile shared all around
Blessed is the nine o one, always sharp on the clock