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...


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