It's 2:31am

It's 2:31am
and I'm waiting for a bus in Montreal
that will take me to the airport.
The snow on the ground is thick,
but I'm wearing wool socks
and a good jacket
so I'm not cold.
I'm a little lonely though.

It's 2:49am
and I'm still waiting.
My feet are a little chilly,
but I've started to create a small little square
of packed snow
next to the bus stop sign.
I'm still lonely,
especially when I look up at the hotel
where my friend still sleeps.

It's 2:52am
and my feet feel like blocks of ice.
I'm curling my toes constantly,
trying to guess whether or not
I'll miss my bus
if I step back inside the hotel lobby.
All the buses that have passed by are wrong.
When is mine going to arrive?

It's 3:05am
and I might have frostbite.
I don't know.
But the wrong buses keep passing
and now out from bars
come people who are ending their day
while mine began over an hour ago.
I am grumpy
and lonely
and cold.

It's 3:08am
and angels have arrived.
Two fellow souls headed for the airport
with a phone to tell them when the bus will arrive
exactly.
My feet are cold,
and growing ever more painful,
but now I am not so lonely.
Now I have hope.

It's 3:16am
and I'm sitting on a bus in Montreal
as it winds its way to the airport.