I got off the bus near the school I used to go to,
It’s dark and run-down walls, now made perfect,
Painted as a woman, right before a night out.
I put my hands in my large coat pockets,
Strutting through the school front courtyard,
Noticing the parents picking up their sunshine’s.
She stood there, in her worn-down clothes,
With large bags under her eyes,
Her one knee buckled, her one hand on her cane.
She stood there, waiting for her little boy.
He came running to her side, with his messy blond hair,
A large, compassionate smile, carrying the wonder of a child…
I saw them exchange their admiration,
Her hand cupping his chin, asking about his day,
Yet the boy only hugged her and frowned,
Keeping his heavy bag on his right shoulder,
Making him lean slightly to the right like the tower of Pisa…
The woman, her hand stroking the young boy’s cheek,
Looked worried and distressed, quickly muttering:
“Smile Henry…Why don’t you ever smile?”
And she smiled to show him how,
But it was the saddest smile he had ever seen…
He knew though. He knew how much that smile meant,
For that smile was the only reassurance that everything is alright,
That smile would make her forget her fears,
Her regrets and her failures, for that smile held her world…
He forced himself to smile, his muscles already aching,
As he tries to forget the bullies and narcissists.
They walked their way home, her movement slow and painful,
With every step she would let out a grunt and then a sigh,
Which let out all the weight from her lungs,
Only for her to breathe it back in as she stumbles.
She quickly reaches to his bag, taking it by the straps,
Smiling and throwing it on her shoulder.
The boy tries to say something, but she only smiles.
The boy knew though. Knew how much that meant to her.
For her to feel like she hadn’t abandoned him,
For her to feel needed and for her to validate herself.
And even though it pained him to see her like this,
He continued to smile and talk,
Just to forget that his world, is in her smile.