BUS TO...

Words bounce away from my searching fingertips
Tears fall silently from closed eyes
Weaving in and out of the shoe-wearing trees
Letters arrive, but they do not belong to me
Some man whose name I share is expecting them

Oh well, I await them eagerly each passing week
I feel like I can touch the clouds when they arrive
I see flames jump in the window
Reaching for the sky

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Written as a class assignment - grade 8, Language Arts, 2001-2002.