I saw her every morning
As she boarded the bus
With a hop skip and jump.
Looking like she just got out of bed
With her messy locks framing her head,
And her smile so contagious
It would lurk in the shadows of my storm
And ambush my square corner with a single silver thread.
But I was the eye of my storm
Invisible to the girl who had it all.
Surrounded by doting eyes and caring hands
She was a dream from faraway lands.
I asked my mother about her one night
And she told long tales
From when we were kids at play
I thought of approaching her
But what would I say?
The next morning in the bus
Her smile faltered
And I wondered
If something was astray
But what would I know?
For the hands around her did not notice
The darkness in her eyes at play.
But I found a box that night
Filled with unblinking smiles on photographs
One decade old. With insolent titles
In scrawny fonts.
I took one with me the very next day.
But cold and lonely her seat lay
I clutched onto our smiles
For I believed
Someday she would know
what I had to say.
But at the very last stop
Boarded a kin of some sort
And he gave me two smiles
Identical to those which I clutched tightly
In the palm of my hand.
“I don’t know if you remember me.”
The news knocked on my doorstep that afternoon
And something deep inside me wept
And cursed that she couldn’t win her fight
Then clad in black at the break of dawn
I pushed gently, the handle of her door
Ready to get to know her once more.