The Last Bus Home


Eyes staring down the lights

Of Passing northbound cars

Left the bar

Too late again

Now I wait with bated

Beer breath

For the last bus home


A Scottish coach

A passing truck

Lots more cars

And then a cab

Should I

flag it down

No, I’ll wait

For the last bus home


Then it appears

Haring up the road

Driver anxious

To get his load

of revellers and workers

– Late from the office

Or so they told the wife

to their destination safely

On the last bus home


A muted squeal

As the bus pulls up

AEC rumble

Diesel in the night

All aboard – hold on tight

Conductor rings the bell

Ding ding

On the last bus home


Staring out the window

Any more fares?

The conductor

has caught us unawares

Search for coins

And pay the man

Take the ticket in our hand

On the last bus home


Eyelids close now

Whether we’re ready

Or not

The symphony of diesel

And the steady rock

Of the ride over the asphalt

Makes us drop off

On the last bus home


A tap on the shoulder

“It’s your stop”

The conductor has remembered

Where I need to get off

Gratefully I thank him

And stagger down the stairs

To wait on the platform

Of the Last bus home


The bus pulls up

I step onto the pavement

My breath catches

On the cold night air

As I step into the arctic

Or so it seems

After the warmth of the saloon

Of the last bus home


I watch as the Routemaster

rumbles on its way

Towards the depot

Not so far away

A short walk now

And then we’ll both

be in bed

Me and the last bus home

The Last Bus Home
The Last Bus Home