Winter, Busses, & Babushkas
Dirty bus windows
sunlight and tree shadows are
ricepaper paintings
The grayed ladies wear
sensible shoes and headscarves
against ceaseless wind
Her waving hand
a mittened futility
the bus passed her by
I have a lot of memories, I seem to not be able to shut up the monkey mind, I over analyze. I now get to do all that while learning to type.
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