A little further away from my house she stood, She stood, I supposed waiting for her bus. I watched as she stood, I watched as the steam From my tea mug Fogged my glasses.
10y, 19j, 213 Passed by. She still stood. I wondered what had kept her waiting. I wondered what man had kept her waiting. The walls of my tea mug grew cold, But I still stood. She stood still, Waiting always for the next bus. And the next And the next. And I stood watching her, As she missed her bus All that evening.