Bus Stop

time ages everything that stands still  

greyhound station sits like a tired sigh  

its benches creak under invisible weight  

dreams once waited here, now forgotten  

dust gathers where laughter used to land  

windows wear grime like second skin  

posters curl into themselves, stories fading  

the walls hum a tune only silence knows  

buses no longer pause to greet the past  

their wheels spin towards brighter futures  

but here, where time holds its breath  

memories linger like stubborn shadows  

this station, neither living nor dead  

a museum for moments that won’t return  

and yet, the hearts of those who pass  

still ache softly for what once was here