7:00 a.m.

There’s a boy who used to,

Ride my bus every 7:00 a.m.,

And I would do everything,

And anything to see him.




He has eyes as deep,

And as green as the lake,

But no one seems to know,

That his smiles are all fake.


He sits with his friends,

All messy blonde hair and smiles,

And he is the kind of boy who,

When he runs he doesn’t count the miles.


He didn’t take things for granted,

Like his “perfect” family,

But not once has he glanced back,

And seen me.


I sit three rows behind,

From his laughing friends and him,

And I look forward to,

Every 7:00 a.m.


He’s the third stop after mine,

And none of his friends are there,

He folds himself in,

Thinking that no one there will care.


But I will,

Because at 7:00 a.m.,

If he didn’t step on the bus,

Then I would miss him.


I would wonder all day,

Where he was and if he was ok,

Because he brightens my 7:00 a.m.,

Every single day.


But one day he wasn’t there,

And all his friends said excuses,

But if you ever get on bus 313,

The seat you are sitting could have been his.


Because the sad boy,

With green green eyes,

Wrote letters the night before,

Saying all his goodbyes.


There wasn’t a letter for me,

The girl who sits three rows back,

Who smells like mint and strawberry,

With a teal lunch pack.


He didn’t know I loved him,

And thought his beautiful,

And that without him,

My 7:00 a.m.’s are sad and dull.


All his friends sit sadly,

Staring at the place he used to sit,

“By god we miss him,”

They all admit.


The bus driver sighs,

Every third stop after mine,

Because he too misses the boy,

With a specialness he can’t define.


Our bus of fifteen people,

All miss him in some way,

Because he is no longer there to brighten,

Our 7:00 a.m.’s every day.


His seat is never sat in,

It is as empty as his eyes,

The last time I saw him,

Before he said his goodbyes.


I had promised myself silently,

That the next day I would tell him,

How much I loved seeing him

Every bright 7:00 a.m.


But he never came,

And I didn’t believe the news,

That someone has beautiful as him,

We had to lose.


A picture was in the school paper,

But it was just a picture and a name,

Because they didn’t know without him,

What a sad place our bus became.


He made everyone’s day better,

With just a grin and a look,

And if I could write poetry,

I would dedicate him a book.



He like the sun,

So brilliant and bright,

A beautiful thing,

After the long night.


But he is gone now,

The boy with beautiful green eyes,

And I only wish,

He had not believed his head’s lies.










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