The Roads

I shall tell you the way I spent my day today.

For a long while,

With the nearby trees throwing shadows to cool me,

I sat on a discarded dusty tyre

On the lookout for the bus, it once belonged;

Till late evening that bus did not pass by,

My wait was a wasted effort.

Such things happen quite often, I said to myself,

That bus will come someday.

What would I know about meeting the bus, I cannot say,

But I shall have a fresh tale for you

Of a different kind

In which the roads travelled would be important

And not those who travel.