The Waiting Game Poem by Sarah Persson

Waiting at the bus stop like I do most every day,
Watching time just ticking by, the bus is late, like yesterday
And when it finally does arrive I climb the steely stairs,
All the people sit and peer outside with empty stares.

The smell is just disgusting, I can barely take a breath,
Unhygenic, coughing sloths, predictions are they're close to death,
I take my seat as far back on the bus as I can go,
In hope the breeze will fill the air with sweeter scents I know.

With every stop I hope the bus will get me there on time
But school kids dawdle as they go, no sense to rush it seems,
My tention builds with every minute slowly passing by,
Til I can take no more and hope my eyes wont let me cry.

But just as I'm about to break, I'm almost at my stop,
I grab my bag with huge relief and press the tiny bell,
Ileave the bus and breathe a sigh and watch it move along,
I made it to my place of work, in 8 hours time I'll head back home.