i read about the boy


who was left at the bus stop

that one Tuesday morning

and the mother never came back.

I forgave her,

for some reason

and that's maybe a human trait

to understand someone for giving up;

there's no room, really, for hate.

And in the end we just keep going

and here's how I know:

when I came back late that day

he was still there, smiling,

hoping

for a bus to come

to take him anywhere

but there.

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