The Bus Driver’s Game Pt. 2

In the clatter of the bus, where laughter rides high,  
She steers through the streets as daylight drifts by.  
With hands on the wheel and a smile like a net,  
Oh, my heart skips a beat—she plays hard to get.  
 
Her favorite color? A subtle gray hue;    
Like clouds in the sky when they’re not sure what’s due.  
And daisies all wild, with their quirky display—    
Crazy little blooms that could brighten her day.  
 
I whispered sweet plans while she counted her fare,  
“I’d buy you some gifts! Just give me a dare.”  
But she chuckles and shrugs with an innocent blink:  
“You should spend your own money—it’s yours, don’t you think?”  
 
Yet here in this moment that feels just for two—  
A bus full of strangers can’t rival what’s true.    
For behind those blue eyes lies a glimmer so slight;    
Could she sense my affection hidden out of sight?    
 
Each stop brings us closer—a trip shared alone—  
But oblivious still to these seeds I have sown.    
A chance at connection gets lost in her laugh;    
I'm left counting coins as if adding up love's math.    
 
So I’ll cherish each ride like it might be our last,      
While dreaming of moments long after they’ve passed.    
Playing hard to get has never felt quite this great;      
She's the driver I'm yearning for: fate cannot wait.