By Leni Marlina
I stand at the road's edge, beneath Clayton's blushing sky,
Monash's city lights gently flicker, piercing the misty Melbourne dusk.
I am more than a mere stop along the way,
I am the quiet witness to journeys on these bustling campuses, yet sometimes, hauntingly still.
Each morning, I wait with an unsung longing,
Students hurry past with bags full of books and dreams,
Schoolchildren stroll by in their crisp, clean uniforms,
And workers bound for Clayton, Monash, and Melbourne,
All carry their hidden hopes within their hurried steps.
I yearn for the soft imprint of feet on the pavement before me,
For the warm smiles and radiant faces greeting the new day.
They share tales of school, studies, work, and family,
Or simply the fickle Melbourne skies,
And I listen, allowing each word to be caressed by Victoria's cold breeze.
As night falls, and Monash and Melbourne's campuses descend into stillness,
I drown in a longing too deep to express.
The tram hums past in its soft, dim light,
While I count the moments until dawn rekindles Victoria's pulse once more.
I never grow weary of waiting,
For every morning and evening, they return, bringing life anew.
I, the bus stop, ever yearning for my faithful travelers,
Cradle each farewell as though it were a string of dreams left behind,
Waiting, always waiting, for their return,
In my trembling arms, along these quiet, wistful streets of Victoria.
