Beethoven Is On The Number 63 Bus - Poem by Hazel Durham

The traffic is bad
But the soothing, breathing and living music
Of Beethoven is no fad,
The bus stops then starts off with all emotions squeezed here,

The elderly some bent over but their dignity still there,
The exuberant young with life jumping from their eyes,
He drives the bus with his constant beloved Beethoven serenading
Like Beethoven is conducting from free changing skies,

Infiltrating some lives in tatters, shattered because they matter,
The route across the city is as familiar as the beauty of the sound,
That strikes the hearts and souls of the passengers all around,
He glances in the front view mirror he see's an old wrinkled man,

But his brown eyes jump with life,
Dignity and grace spills out into a waterfall of passion
Like his love for his wife,
He drives the bus with life jumping from his brown eyes,

He wants to forget the world and all it's lies,
As the passion of sound moves hearts and souls
Coming from the eternity of everlasting skies,
Driving down grey streets and rain sodden roads,

Beethoven is on the number 63 bus,
He drives the passengers back to the sanctuary of their abodes,
Freeing tortured souls of their heavy loads,
The sound of beauty unleashed driving along familiar rain sodden roads.

Poems by Hazel Durham

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