Bus ride

Sweeps me along, through congested lanes and narrow alleys,
My bus ride takes me everywhere.
Air-conditioned comfort, TV mobile, plush seats,
What more can I ask for?

Vistas of verdure,
Hives of high-rise,
Concentrations of construction activity,
The hubbub and buzz of a strange world resides
Outside my bus windows.

44 years of metamorphosis,
And yet rootedness has taken flight from my soul.
What do I see out of the bus windows,
But the unfeeling mortar and mechanisation
Of a nation spreading its wings far and wide.

Leaving me and countless others in the slipstream,
Ours, a bus ride destined to lag behind
The va-va-vroom of purblind progress.