Buses
my most recent (speed) sonnet topic suggested by androgynousandafraid
The bench is wet as both of us sit down Collapsing my umbrella, I say hi You just return my smile with a frown And stare with no emotion at the sky
I check my watch; you check your phone, and wait Anticipating warm and dry and bright But sitting here, now that it's getting late It's cold outside and almost without light
We spot a distant glow from down the street You start to stand, unsure if this is it A number becomes clear, and with defeat You walk back to the bench by me and sit
I often feel that I may go insane When waiting for my buses in the rain













