Jeffrey Hull

The white bus stopped for me again today—
   I climbed the steps, the driver beckoned me,
   That gentle smile of his I always see;
I took my seat, and we were on our way.

The fields and farms flashed by; I softly wept
   As looming hills bedraped with forests green
   Below the wispy cirrus lay serene—
And then at last in dreamless sleep I slept.

The playful morning sun my bones awoke
   To gently coax me back to face the day
   With hopes this dwindling time above the clay
Could all the sadness in the world revoke;

But such was not to be, not now nor then—
   My tears by day and dreams by night reveal
   How slowly deepest wounds of spirit heal
As darkness whispers in my ear again.


© 2005 Jeffrey Hull

Dreamlike, tender, and sad. The white bus is a powerful image.