Little pleasures

Reluctantly I sit alone,
On one of the old, cold seats..
Before the bus starts with a groan,
My day is still incomplete.

I see a low flash in my sight,
So I look down to the floor.
A sight that gives me great delight,
But one the others ignore.

A plastic bottle lying propped
Against another seat’s pole.
I opt to help one that is stopped,
And I watch it as it rolls.

As the bus goes over the lift
The bottle spins and stills
I wait once more for it to shift
And look ahead for some hills

But the bottle will move no more
I go ahead and fix it
Though I won’t help it anymore
I’m going to have to quit

Before it can go fail again
The bus makes a sound like “Clack!”
The bus has entered my domain
I leave and never look back