Bus My Choice

Now I walk home carrying the load.
I pick you again, I say it's true, but my feet are aching.
And now I'm missing the bus, I miss you too.
My phone is at 4%, I type that I'm okay.
You send back a heart, tell me walk it slow,
Don't rush the way.
Past the bakery with the shutter pulled,
The shoe repair bridge.
Every shop front closed like it's done with the day.
Every block is white and quiet, every window dark,