Forged Mayhap

She stares at the bus, as it passed by.

Into the classroom window she peeks, when tears role down her messy cheeks.

My empathy blazes, I run to her and say,

“Hey, little angel, don’t cry, God has something special planned for you.”

And at the same time my heart weeps,

As I try to dawn conceivable hope upon her.

She gives me a sketchy smile,

And once more engages herself in washing the canteen’s utensils.

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