At the Bus Stop

A meaningful poem about an everyday place.

At the Bus Stop

“Hello, how you doin’?”

These words are never spoken

When will this spell be broken

For the worlds are always left unspoken

“I’m good, you?”

No one has a clue

Does the other has the flu

Or that the other had a breakthrough

On how to go through

To coming up to you

No words are ever said

You’ve turned away your head

We look out instead

Thinking only of what lies ahead

The bus stops dead

I watch as you go ahead

To one we call a friend

I know not your name

But your eyes are the same

No one knows

Though I realized as we came to an end

That what is left unsaid

Is part of the endless cycle

That starts at the bus stop