The Bus Stop

The bus stop is a dreary place,

Doom and gloom on every face.

Another day, I’m off to school,

I forgot my homework like a fool.

My book bag heavy on my back,

My mind not on school but running track.

Finally, the bus comes down the street,

I move to the side, shuffling my feet.

Picking a seat halfway back,

My friends around me, like a pack.

The bus pulls away from the curb,

I rewrite my homework, every noun and verb.

I have arrived at school,

Exiting the bus, trying to act cool.

Strolling towards the door, the first bell rings,

I hurry off to class, gathering my things.

I sit at my desk, next to my friend,

Tomorrow at the bus stop, it begins again.