The Bus Window

Rain taps the glass, a rhythm soft and sly, The bus hums low through Guernsey’s rolling green. Outside, the world is stitched with sea and sky, A patchwork quilt where dreams are often seen. The driver hums, his tune a salty air, While gulls above perform their wild ballet. Each passenger, a story unaware, Their thoughts like waves that break and drift away. This island’s pulse beats steady in the wheels, Through lanes where time and tide forever roam. The window frames what every heart here feels: A fleeting home, yet never far from home. Let this verse ride where travelers’ eyes may stray, A glimpse of Guernsey’s soul along the way.