No Such Thing

Walking over to a bus stop a quarter past eight
I look up and see you standing in the rain
No one is around but a beaten button down
And I try to get the nerve to say hello
But just when my feet take the first step
The trolley pulls up and carries you away
Later that day I tell my friends of my wait
They just smile and wave it away
“There is no such thing,” they say
Yet the next morning I’m whisked to that spot
Where the rain runs in your place
And my memory takes me back to your face
Days go by and I find no trace
No longer in a rush
I sit by the brush
When suddenly the wind picks up
And walking over to a bus stop a quarter past eight
You look up and see me sitting in a ray
Everyone is around but the beaten button down
And I finally stand up to say…

© 2019 Jessica Santos