( My changing relationship with public transport since not being able to drive)

I have no pictures for this post as it didn’t seem appropriate to try and photograph buses on the main road with drivers and travellers looking on, and of course for their privacy.

I hope my words convey enough of an image. The car and the buses are vehicles to convey our relationships, not only with them but with us. The world in general is the backdrop, alongside my original art form through poetry- speaking of connections and new understandings to sudden changes in life.

Car

Cylinders on wheels

Metal sides

Canned conversations

Car radio companion

As your thoughts race on

To your destination.

Independent freedom

No sense of waiting

Behind the wheel

Invincible

Indestructible,

Your foot guides you

Glides you to any location.

Until the vehicle’s owner malfunctions

Breaks down

Falls down

Ceasing the ignition

You come to a junction and STOP!

Wedded to your car

Such a sickening separation

Akin to loosing a limb

World closes in

As the plastic permission to drive

Takes a nosedive

Life stalls

You feel appalled

As the steering wheel of your life

Loses control

Vanished overnight

In a blink of an eye.

Buses

This was not how it was supposed to be

Me, a passenger riding out to see the sea

In a squarer can on wheels

Never thought it would appeal

Seats occupied by strangers

Full of chatter,

I, daring to speak

Moving closer to seek

A deeper connection

Away from steering wheels

With free hands,

Nothing like this was ever planned.

Your eyes gaze towards open fields

Eyes once focused on road

Are now revealed

To a bigger view

Of skies and trees

And not just landscape,

A view of slowed down time.

Patience starts to rain

Down on bus stops

And windowsills.

Who needs pills?

When the number 34

Which has done this journey

So many times before

Is telling you of

A new direction.

Who would have thought it?

Wedded to a car

Now divorced and destined to go far

Beyond my narrow perception

A whole new conception

A chance encounter,

A hello and soft goodbye

See you again maybe,

A presence remains

In that moment etched.

The camera with owner

The cigarette at the bus stop

Waiting for an invitation and

Permission to be sat next to

On the seat at the bus station

Commencing a new conversation.

 A terminal sadness

Of flesh, not a station

Words of healing and hope

A lingering glance

A day made brighter

I hope she is a fighter.

And given a lift to life.

The couple alighting and then returning

Just after 3.

Hey, it’s you; it’s me

Did you have a good day?

People never to be seen again

But life feels richer for them

Having passed by

With a brief ticket of time

For £1.50 or £7.99.

The price of priceless

This is what discovery means

And to be known.

Next, is my chance to change my relationship

With my phone

And then maybe what feels like home.

Cars run you to a place

Buses take you beyond that space

To a new dimension

Of connection

Alongside people, us

Called the Human Race.

I’m glad, I have made the acquaintance!

@copyrightHelenMarshall finished Nov 3^rd 2026 for Footstepconversations