The Last Bus Home

I’d leave my workplace just before The hands crept round to five once more To race the clock and buy the time I needed then to queue in line To catch my breath in freezing rain And board the bus back home again. Then as those doors hissed shut behind I’d feel a weight lift from my mind And walk the aisle to find a seat Just as the lights lit up the street And by the time that I'd sat down The last bus home was leaving town. The years play tricks on all of us So when I think back to that bus And smile describing as to how I caught it then but miss it now I'm sure it's down to time's weird ways I hated work yet loved those days!