Waiting

I watched a white cloud
Float silently overhead
Making the sky bluer
Than it was
I kept looking up
For the next
Even letting my bus pass
Did the poet
Who lived here sometime
Stand at this stop
Watching the sky like this
Looking at the mango tree
Across the road
Wanting to see
A parrot or two alight
And suddenly worrying
If he had enough
For the to and fro fare
And for a tea, to spare