It’s nearly 4.15 and still quite dark
Where other night time creatures make their mark
We wait for the next transport to arrive.
Orange haloed rabbits find they survive
On weeds in tarmac where we come to park
Away from lorries and the fox’s bark
And weary travellers take a slower drive.
We veer from others’ gaze and stand apart
When on the bus with luggage stowed away
But glance at clothing, wishing we were smart
Instead of dressed for passenger melee.
And praying for no unforeseen delay
We’ll trundle to the gate where we depart.