by Leah Curtis

Created on: December 27, 2008

Separate Ways

I don't know where this bus is going

I just asked for a ticket for the next one out

I love watching the flat, barren land fly by.

It's grey, cold, with a bitter wind.

Not the sunshine

of a July day

that would make me think

of when I was taking the bus

the other way

towards you.

As you go your way

and I go mine

there is something comforting

about a grey, winter's day

watching trees with no leaves

ground with no grass

a grey, black sky.

When love dies

and we go our separate ways

it was meant to happen

on a day like this.

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