The Bus Stand

How long before your bus arrives, my dear?

Some minutes hence or so?

The heavens know I wish to keep you here

And utter, "Do not go."

This stand is where we first embraced and kissed;

This stand will be our last.

A place that brought us joy now steals our bliss—

Grief's arrow strikes too fast.

Don't think about our happy days; they're done.

Come near. Let me adore

Your pretty face as I make you a bun,

Then let us kiss once more.

Don't go with dewy eyes, my love. Don't grieve.

The person whom you'll wed

Is one your father deems the best. Believe—

You'll have good days ahead.

Your bus has come. Don't take a window seat,

Lest you turn back and see

My bleak form standing here—all frozen feet,

Engulfed by agony.