Bus number 231,
A journey into the unknown, butterflies fluttering in my stomach -
nerves beyond those of which I am familiar with.
The silhouette of you matches the figure of which I had in mind,
you walk - or rather, stroll - up the lane, a puzzled look upon your face as my bus innocently sweeps past, the warmth of the summer air blowing your hair back in exasperation.
Buzz
Then buzz again, of a different kind.
The spring breeze wafts past me, teasingly.
A singular pavement winds up to you and eventually we meet.
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
Bus number 231,
A journey into the unknown, butterflies fluttering in my stomach -
nerves beyond those of which I am familiar with.
The silhouette of you matches the figure of which I had in mind,
you walk - or rather, stroll - up the lane, a puzzled look upon your face as my bus innocently sweeps past, the warmth of the summer air blowing your hair back in exasperation.
Buzz
Then buzz again, of a different kind.
The spring breeze wafts past me, teasingly.
A singular pavement winds up to you and eventually we meet.
