Waiting at the bus stop,
There is no one there
Am I early, I muse
Or was the bus ahead of time.
Blue cars,
Red cars
Black and silver ones
All pass me by.
Then there is a lorry
And maybe a van or two.
Do they see me waiting?
Or do they pass me by
Oblivious to my presence.

Another hopeful joins me
So we sit
and pass the time of day.
At least we are
In the dry
If not in comfort.
A passer-by says hallo
And hurries on
yet still we wait.

Eventually there is a different sound
Among the passing cars
The bus is going up the hill,
And now we know
It soon will arrive.
Sometimes on time
Yet others very late.
Will there be a seat
Or will we have to stand.
At last we are off
On the journey we have planned.

© Felicity Bullock