A Journey On Flooded Ways

I flushed my legs daring the cold
The bus had stopped and skies were gold
My feet became pedals cycling
But slow repelled by winds blowing

My dress was like wet sandy hair
And limbs began shrinking in air
I knew to wait was not a choice
Or night shall come with woeful voice

Approached I home in proud relief
Then threw a smile towards the thief
Behind me now inside the past
What sweet success I saw at last!