Staring out the window on the big, yellow bus,
Alone,
Never talking, just listening to her CD player.
I think it may be heavy metal or rock.
She sits,
Arms crossed,
Maybe smiling a bit,
Reminds me of a Cheshire cat that knows a secret.
I wonder what's going on in her head.
Is she forming a new plot to write about? Daydreaming?
Is she thinking about her life?
Her grades? God?
Is she lonely?
Her nail polish is chipped,
Yet she acts very confidant.
Could she be shy? Mature?
Has something happened to her to make her act this way?
Sometimes she'll read a fantasy book,
Sometimes she'll talk to a friend,
Sometimes she stares out the window,
But usually,
She gets on the bus,
Sits down,
And presses play.
No talking.
No laughing.
Not even eye contact.
She sits,
Alone.
Nothing seems to bother her.
She's intimidating, yet intriguing all the same.