in a cocoon of metal and glass –
flying in the dark.
Home ahead, behind home
as the orange light of the motorway
speeds the bus on.
There is no air out there
only gravity in here
stuck to the tartan double-seat
some sleep
some snore
some eat crisps noisily
and just sit
homesick already
or read in the orange light
lose track of the words
and others
just sit and stare
at the unreality out there
all so warm and unafraid
unaware of adventure
just a fingertip away.
Not yet knowing what they’ll find
who they’ll be
no time to take it all down
in my book and too soon
we are there.
