The Bus Driver’s Game

In a city humming, wheels on the street,      
Behind the wheel, she greets with a beat.      
A bus driver charming, though hard to connect,      
With laughter and teasing—so blissfully unchecked.    
   
Her hair catches sunlight in shades of soft gray,      
She drives past my heart each and every day.      
I try to approach her with words I can’t bring;      
But she just raises brows as if sensing my sting.    
   
“Why not spend your money? It’s yours after all!”      
With playful indifference tucked into her thrall.      
While passengers shuffle through dusk and through dawn,
She rides like a queen; I’m just left hanging on.    
   
Oh! The way that she smiles when accepting each fare— Oblivious yet effortlessly unaware.      
I wonder if someday she’ll see through my blues:      
Each glance that I throw her—a whisper of clues.    
   
Yet still there’s the distance wrapped tight ’round the wheel,  
As laughter escapes me—I ponder what’s real.      
With each little stop at an intersection wide,        
My feelings collide with an unyielding ride.    
   
Gray is her favorite—the color so true—        
It mirrors the fog where our possibilities grew.      
And while others chase sunbeams or paint skies in red— My hopes drape in twilight while inside me they spread.    
   
So here in this passageway sturdy yet fleet—        
I'll cherish these moments ‘neath clouds softly sheeted;   For though she's oblivious to what might ignite,—    
This love's bittersweet thrill makes every day bright.