It was a long weekend for many,
With a public holiday at hand.
An annual religious festival beckons,
Poor workers return to their home land.
Huge crowds converge at the southern bus terminal,
To get tickets for their return.
Long queues have formed at numerous counters,By weary travellers, each anxious for his turn.
I'm relieved at having got my ticket,
It was purchased the day before.
Now I only have to find my way,
To the gate on the basement floor.
Still I can't help but feel distressed,
At the sea of people spread across the hall.
Wondering if every one will get on a bus home,
Or will any be stranded with no ticket at all.
Meanwhile, a thunderstorm is going on,
Buses are caught in traffic jams outside.
As the long queues continue to inch forward,
The crowd still fills the hall - a throng without respite.
For every one in this terminal today,
The long way home has become longer.
For the journey home has already started,
With a long wait to the ticket counter.
