The Bus Ride

The Bus Ride
By larry r Linville

Got on a bus in Saint Paul
Had not rode in many years
Sat with a very young man
And lent him my friendly ears.

“Where you headed?” I asked him
With a puzzled look he said
“Fine, thank you!” and I wondered
Where this conversation had led.

The bus stopped very often
It seemed like in every town
I looked to see how he was
And he never wore a frown.

He got on from one of the stops
And it was getting very cold
He wanted to say something
But he didn’t look very bold

He said, “It’s getting cold outside”
And I didn’t know what to do
He speaks English I noticed
And I said, “Fine thank you.”