I stand by the roadside
Waiting for the dust to settle…
A bus just went past
Without stopping:
This stop is not scheduled.
I think you, Sir,
Used to come in that bus
And would get down here for home.
I stand here everyday
Watching constructions
Around me change the scene:
Pedestrians picking their way
Through debris piled high;
Cars taking confused U-turns
To find themselves near me yet again…
The digging and dust and din
Go on till the sun goes down
And workers trail a tired path.
The bus stopped here
Some time ago
This was the route going home…
But now this road is not en route
To home or any place else.
So I am now obsolete
And vacant like dead eyes
That watch and wait
For someone to close them
And give them the dignity
Of a quiet end.