Yellow Bus

I miss it, those days where life is simple, alphabets could not form words, love was inconsistent outside the context of family and running through wades of silk in the mall was not greeted with menacing glances and embarrassing statements from friends. Compassion and demure were greeted with praises, now if you display too much, you are crude, if you have a stony apparel you are rude. What would I give to sit on the yellow bus, ronda ronda with the bus conductor and Shab. Money was a five letter word where problems are not connected to it, instead money meant sweets. Why can't I find someone alike to me? And the only one who comes close is taken away by a slut. I kid you not. I am waiting for a prince, but for now I can't wait and see, the noise of the world is getting me caught up. I have to move.


Love Moi, Noura Talib....an