One old bench, a faded sign
Twenty minutes, yours and mine
The seven-forty never hurried
Neither did we, never worried
Cicada shade and vending glow
The slowest timetable I know
I checked the road and hoped to see
No headlights coming, mercifully
At the bus stop, one more day
Praying yours was on delay
The only bus I ever cursed
Was the one that got there first
You'd hum a song and swing your heel
Share a soda, split the peel
And when the engine rounded the bend
I felt the summer start to end
I checked the road and hoped to see
No headlights coming, mercifully
At the bus stop, one last ride
The doors sighed open, you stepped inside
You found a window, pressed your palm
And took away the evening's calm
Buses run on printed time
Missing you runs on no line
At the bus stop, one more day
I still wait there anyway
Old bench, same sign, the summer heat
And twenty minutes, incomplete
One old bench, a faded sign
Some departures stay behind
