i get off the bus weary
muscles constricted
joints slowly unlocking
to cool morning breeze
swishing through pines
a steamy coffee on a cup
adore most palms except me
i have chocolate with mint today
rusty jukebox playing an old song
orphan kids are trying to sing along
they have a basket with few quarters
they dance, they wave, they call me sir
i sit by the table to listen to melody
i like it soothing enough for my ear
i manage to reach my pocket deep
they are lucky i have few dimes left
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem