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“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!

1

Notes

(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/