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This week is dedicated to all things French: Waiting for the Bus in St. Cyprien

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Continuing my French dedicated blog week, here is a poem that I wrote while, you guessed it, waiting for a bus in the south of France. This is definitely a departure from what I usually write, for a poet I am not. Feel free to also check out Observations in Paris.

 

Waiting for the Bus in St. Cyprien

Before I got hot and sticky

I had two strong, black cups of coffee

Now I’ve got the jitters, and

Every car that approaches sounds like the bus .

 

Maybe the church bells will ring

To tell me the time

Never mind. No need.

The bus has arrived.

 

No seats are empty, but

My stiff knees enjoy standing.

The bus starts to move.

The breeze is relieving.

 

Since every word is unfamiliar,

I don’t know my stop.

The caffeine and bumpy ride makes my stomach excited.

 

Then the kind driver helps me,

And once again I am on my way. . .

 

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5 thoughts on “This week is dedicated to all things French: Waiting for the Bus in St. Cyprien

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