FeaturesApril 30, 2000
POETRY CORNER: THE BUS STOP
He ran the l o n g cold mile to the bus stop where she stood waiting under the street lamp. For a brief half hour, snowflakes melted on their warm, red faces while he prayed the bus would be late for the l o n g mile ride to his cold apartment.
Raymond Peats
He ran the
l
o
n
g
cold mile to the bus stop
where she stood waiting
under the street lamp.
For a brief half hour, snowflakes
melted on their warm, red faces
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while he prayed the bus would be
late for the
l
o
n
g
mile ride
to
his
cold
apartment.
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