A SHORT RIDE HOME

I recognized that smell
of cheap plastic seats
looking like fake leather
The blue stars from the fifties
that painted the tin ceiling
and the smell of spring
that clanked against the aged bus windows
There's less noise now
but I could hear the children's laughter
and the teasing in the narrow aisle
It left me thinking
Why are we rushing through life?
To get to our end?
There once was a time of innocence
and a time where we could depend
I say live life to each new day
and to live like we're kids again.