The Bus That Never Came

By Irene Bassett

To us that year a bitter and cold winter came.
We teens dashed ‘round, your coat black and mine red,
In the snow that was as a pale white.
From the clouds, it came, swiftly and gently falling,
Heading down to the ground.
Above we had gentle grey waves in the sky.
Above us we heard the cry of birds in the sky,
We looked up and to us a strange vision came.
High above our heads fluttered a scarf towards the ground.
It was a beautifully crafted thing, silken and red.
You reached and interrupted its graceful falling,
And saw across the street a young woman in a coat of white.

She waved a hand that was gloved in white,
And she smiled to you, with a sparkling eye, blue as a clear sky.
I could see that in that moment your heart for her was falling,
Head over heels, and when she beckoned you came.
I could see from where I stood your cheeks aglow with red.
She explained she was waiting for the bus when you asked why she sat on the ground.

So you joined her there, and sat down upon the ground.
And ‘round her pale neck of white,
You wrapped that slash of red.
You two talked until night darkened the sky.
And then talked some more until the last bus came.
It was plain to see that you were both in love falling.

And because you were both together falling,
You decided again to meet here on this very ground.
When the sun rose and the dawn with it came,
No matter if there lay again the snow’s white,
You’d meet here again to watch the sun rise into the sky.
Your lips were twin pilgrims that joined into roses red.

I felt stir within me the color of anger – red.
For you, I had so long ago had been falling,
With you ever so blissfully unaware even as we lay staring at the sky,
Our backs against the cold, wet ground.
Even within the carefully folded notes on paper that was white,
Feelings that I desired from you never came.

The green of jealousy and the red of anger mixed and held their ground.
And in the wee dark hours of the falling snow, I created a lie that was not white.
I awoke you after the sun was high in the sky and told you the bus never came. Irene Bassett has had stories featured on the NoSleep Podcast and CREEPY under the pseudonym Irene Stark and on blacktime e-press under the pseudonym Kenny Stark-Udar. Irene lives in Long Beach, California, and her primary email address is irenestark2017@gmail.com. Learn more about Irene here.