Memories

0

There goes the
blue bus
of my childhood filled
with old paper-scented
memories.
One on each seat.
They have a full
backpack on
their shoulders.
They can’t take it off
alone so they
only sitting with
half ass.
Luckily the seats
covered with enough
dirt on fake velvet
to being sticky.
The driver misses
every stop because no
one reaches the
button.
Me, luckily, didn’t catch the bus
I was too buried in
my future.

Photo credit: Varga Zsófia

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