The Contrast

You are but a bean out of its shell

And I am a seasoned bus traveller 

Your mommy watches over you

Mine does too, but from Heaven. 

I look at you as I barely stand from my seat

And your curious eyes meet mine 

with a playful spark. 

This is when the old met the young. 

Both so helpless and vulnerable 

Travelling on the bus, susceptible

To every shake, every break of the driver

Holding tightly to rails and pram bars

With both our mothers watching over us.