“On The Buses”

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Waiting to go home
After a Cup Final
London Old Boys Challenge Cup
Which understandably
May have been below
Your footballing radar.
At the bus stop
Waiting for my 176
When a P13 pulls up
It shouldn’t
At a request stop.
“Bloody idiot”, I thought
I never stuck out my hand
And clearly nobody getting off.
Doors open.
I choose politeness.
I certainly don’t want
The bus to Streatham.
“Not for me mate”
Only for the driver to state:
“I saw your shirt.
Good luck Dulwich
Hope you get promoted”
Doors close
And off he goes.
Leaving me both
Gobsmacked, jawdropping
And a great big grin on my face!



(I went to the the London Old Boys Cup Final tonight, at Champion Hill. Old Hamptonians 2, Old Meadonians 0. At the bust stop, after the match, a complete stranger, a passing bus driver wished my team, Dulwich Hamlet, luck in our promotion push. Made my night!)

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/on-the-buses/