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Literature Text
sitting in the shelter.
will the busses never come?
the glow of the snow off the street lights
softens the world.
surreal.
a whistle!
where is it?
a howl!
peering around, trying to determine
if there is a pack of half-starving, rrabid wolves
hot on our scent.
laughter.
it is the wind through the bus stop.
the cold settles until we are numb.
you talk.
i talk.
we talk.
we laugh at boys and sigh over love.
we anguish at perfection and fume at ditziness.
a pause.
you open up to me.
our souls become one.
"i love you."
we smile.
i know it's hard.
you keep to yourself.
i hope that you can be yourself with me.
after all, we are friends!
will the busses never come?
the glow of the snow off the street lights
softens the world.
surreal.
a whistle!
where is it?
a howl!
peering around, trying to determine
if there is a pack of half-starving, rrabid wolves
hot on our scent.
laughter.
it is the wind through the bus stop.
the cold settles until we are numb.
you talk.
i talk.
we talk.
we laugh at boys and sigh over love.
we anguish at perfection and fume at ditziness.
a pause.
you open up to me.
our souls become one.
"i love you."
we smile.
i know it's hard.
you keep to yourself.
i hope that you can be yourself with me.
after all, we are friends!
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this poem is my version of friday night, when the world was cold and harsh, and i was sitting with my good friend sammy c at the bus stop after work
© 2004 - 2024 natyismyhero
Comments15
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AHh this is cool...I have to wait for the bus a lot to go to work all the time *shivers* Only thing is Im normally by myself. Its a nice poem though and reminds me all the time of well....waiting for a bus. Though I cant really relate to the last part...its a beutiful poem though thats nice to read 