Bus Stop

By Cory Early

 

Waiting for the bus,

and saving the world again.

You are practically my best friend.

Unknown and unseen.

A ghost in plain sight.

You get on and off,

swift like a gazelle,

dancing ballet on a Sunday morning.

The sun hits the forest,

and the dew begins to fade.

Some have died and others were born.

Here for a moment and gone the next.

A new day rises and the sign still stands.

In one more hour there will be plenty more,

ready to walk through the traveling door.  

Blind and dazed just following the craze.

Hungry,

with Pinocchio style noses.

Waiting for life again like its your long lost friend.

Enjoy the pause, it’s lucky and rare.

A minutes break from reality,

as I watch from my lair.