Far, Far Away

I remember those early mornings
Waiting for the bus.
The morning was cold
And quiet.
I would look down the road one way
And then the other
And imagine all the places that road could take me.

When the bus finally arrived
I would walk across the street,
Climb into the bus
And watch as the bus would drive past my house.
I would stare and try to take it in.
I’d imagine this bus was taking me away
That this was it.
That my life had started and I was finally leaving
For good.


I'm not very happy with this poem so any suggestions on how to improve it would be great!