The Bus That Does Not Stop

I am standing at the bus stop. I am waving my hand.

The bus is coming. It is not stopping. The driver is looking the other way.

I am running now. The bus is faster. It is turning the corner. Then it is gone.

I take a break and sit down on the cold seat. My feet hurt.

A small bird is waking up in the tree. It does not need a bus.

I will be late today. But the morning is quiet, and I am not in a hurry now.