The Bus Stop

Written on 2 March 93

The cool wind stings her warm flesh
As the cars zip by down the boulevard
A shiver runs through her
As the chilly air streams
Through her thin suit
She anxiously peers at
The silver watch upon her dainty wrist
Channeling her energy into trying
To hurry the time along
But it moves none the faster
To her dismay
Wanting to be in the cozy confines
Of her residence
But having to wait awhile
Just the same

Ivie H.

Copyright ©2002 Ivie H.


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