The bus driver knew the route.
The road carried him
Called him
Lured him.
Familiar places and faces.
Over the years they
Built him a life, a role, an authority
Born out of the responsibility
For the lives that he carried daily.

He was proud of that.
But it was all over now.
He was on a new journey.
The one that would take him from
The end of his working life
To the Final Destination.

Standing at the harbour
On a Sunday morning in January
He gazed out at it all.
The present, the past
And the future horizon.

”It’s mild for the time of year” he said.
”We’re lucky.”

”How many more stops?” he thought.
”A few more I hope.
It’s nice to be the passenger for a change”.