The 11:05 110 bus to Thame

The 11:05 110 bus to Thame

Dash to the stop – quick, run, sitting on a cold bench isn’t much fun.

Will it come? Is it late?

No floods today Oh joy! It’s arrives at the stop.

I roll on with my wheels, red and black,

Brakes locked, and I sit behind the bar,

Over the bridge – look out for that car!

Off like a rocket, rattling loud,

over each pothole – I bump up and down.

Hold on tight as the seats squeal,

As we stop, with no one there.

Off we go, up a hill we climb,

Brushing past trees, in autumn’s prime.

But wait! Not Thame, but a winding spree,

Through village after village – all for me?

Stopping at stops where no one waits,

Back again to familiar roads.

Then finally down, to Thame’s old Co-op,

I check my watch, I’m set to hop.

“What time’s the bus back?” I ask, a little wary,

“12:50,” he says, with a grin that’s scary.

So here’s to the 110 bus. village to village it roams

At least today, I’m dry as a bone!

Wendi 14/11/24