I love the way he sits beside the window at the bus

Putting his bag on the seat next to him

Saving a seat for me

But it was me who took the seat across his row

Leaving him there, sitting alone

With his bag beside him

Saving a seat for me

I wonder if he knows

I'm writing about him

Sitting across his row

While he, busy with his thoughts

Looking far out the window

Maybe someday, I can sit beside him

Near the window

And share the same thoughts...

Well, that day came

I'm ready to sit beside him

But his bus never arrived at my stop

Now I need to walk home alone

Maybe he changed his route

Maybe he got tired of waiting

Maybe that saved seat was never mine