Sweat was trying to make the sense of the rush
Legs were going here and there
Picking up cues left by crowd
Hands were tasked with keeping the backpack
On the shoulders from which it was slipping
Again and again!
The bus I was waiting for never arrived
I had to carve another path of my own
Or rather find the vehicle that seemed to evade me
On the most crucial of the moments
The alternative was always the difficult one
But the end mattered most
I truly felt the expression
Running from my forehead
To the temples and vanishing
In the wisps of hair!
I was home!