Freezing

Hanging in plain sight

The corners are quiet

When is the bus going to come?

Standing, I am not alone

Never truly have been

Chitter chatter as we wait

“Why is the bus so late?”

We always question

But then they all turn

Looking back at me

I try to dispel rumors

But who am I kidding?

Definitely not me

As I grow weaker in the knees

Finally, we all see it

A faint glimmer of bright

Rounding the corner to our delight

Now the bus is here

And no one previous is near

Except now everyone can hear...