Thoughts on the Bus at Night by Hazel Rogers

Sister, darling

How strange that you have come to me,

As starlings do come

When day succumbs

To dusk.

In velvet dark

Wheels below me

Steine, Way, Park,

I cannot hear my thoughts

But I can close my eyes,

And there we walk

Greenway curling emerald to amber

To sparsery flaming there, in ember –

This bond we hold

To age, twofold;

It is cold here, and

I feel alone, my sister.

Our cheeks touch no longer.

But to think on your hair,

Like feathers in my fingers

And to think on your smell

Your embrace, your kisses

Brings warmth to this chair

And the cool night air.

I ask you, my all, my moon and sun:

Let’s go back to the hills and run.

Elpis Anthology