Standing At The Bus Stop Poem by Thomas Bates

It was a definite downfall, yes,
Mid-day today,
In this season of May.
The air was chilly as I inhaled, exhaling, and
Cars passed through the light drizzle of rain
And minutes were continually passing.
I found myself in an
Awkward stance
With fluctuating moods
Standing
Near to many trees.
Emotions were lifting through
A jagged disarray of feeling, pale in the lights
Of a haze, and what I saw that morning
Was deadly.

Yes,
It felt definite and endless,
Such a downfall,
And I nearly felt resigned to it's crashing down.

Still, in this season of May, I breathe, continually.