Bystander

When I am left, again,

holding disappointment for the world I am apart

of, I am on a back winding road in torrential rainfall.

Hazard lights blink revealing a vehicle up ahead:

a dump truck, ambulance, no—

a school bus stops. Yellow lights turn red

in rain so thick I cannot see the tiny stop sign fold out.

A man drapes a jacket over a child stepping off the bus,

cradles him under his arm into their van

parked feet from the bus stop.

Back he goes three more times, sheltering tiny feet

through the monsoon, and my eyes

well with tears at this immense love.

I am a bystander of their little world

suspended between two strong arms.

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