She sits and stares
on her empty bus seat
out a window
into the world beyond
a book of poems
lie open in her lap
to page 19
but not yet read
by the brown eyes
that stare out the window
of this
enpty
cold
rusty
rickety bus
she stares at everything
and nothing at all
consuming houses
people
trees
and everything into her own world
created simply
by her brown eyes
thriving
but only off the fact
that she looks
and sees
and cares
about the world beyond
this rsty window
of a school bus.

She never talks
never moves
never seems to be alive
except for her eyes
that by a glance one could tell
she has seen the world
and all problems in it
and has tried
and failed
to save that world
and all the people
and the saddness
reflects the memory
of death
that has claimed the people she holds dear:
the sick
the sad
the lonley
the hungry
the tired
the cold
the poor
the depressed
the miserable people
of Earth
as well as those who
can live
and breathe
and amke her come alive
and put a spark in her mind
that shine white light
in the dark corners
of her soul
and the make her laugh...
those that she did save
and though we cannot see it now,
she thinks of them
and i know all of this
by staring at her eyes.

The eyes that stare out the window
of a bus.