Waiting for the Bus

I was waiting for the bus
when I felt it in the air.
The perfume of a ghost
oh so lovely and fair.

I looked to the side,
not knowing what I'd find:
no one was there,
t'was a trick of the mind.

I leaned back on the bench,
my heart slowing it's pace,
and I thought of your hair,
your eyes and your face.

The bus came and went,
but the wait was well spent.

I enjoyed being with you,
we should do this again.