Standing here doesn’t make any sense,
Under the hot sun, in this bus-stand,
For a bus which never comes on time.

But these are the heady days of adolescence,
And under this canopy I stand,
Waiting for an angular glimpse of your sight.

Looking down on me with tentative uncertainty,
As you measure me up in the realm of your dreams,
That window-seat you sit in, always looks bright.

I keep waiting, letting things slip by,
Its a mistake peculiar to this age,
Its the start of a fascination, a new phase of my life