No time to waste at the bus stop,

Young artists were busy as bees,

They painted their village so brightly,

The houses, the flowers, the trees.

They figured that all would admire it

as they stood in the winter freeze.

And they did.


Though they shuffled with hands in their pockets,

And longed for the bus to appear,

They were thankful they lived in the village

With their  collage of life without fear.



About rhymebydesign

Mother, grandmother, mainstream poet and short story writer. Started off in life as a teacher, but then moved out of the classroom in to educational administration. Curious about what makes people tick, including my own tickings! I enjoy long walks, thought provoking books, theatre and leading a simple life. I offer a customised poetry writing service for any occasion you might like to mark. Contact me at rhymebydesign@hotmail.com for a quick quote.

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