My Reflection

She sat there staring out across the wind swept grass.
It has already started to turn brown in the heat.
Not moving, hands in her lap.
About four or five, she looks to me.

I wave and smile, she makes no movement.
Not a sign that she sees me there.
Blank expression, without a sound.
She seems to be in another world.

As I walk forward, with the small stuff toy.
All I ask is a little smile.
She is like a stone.
Hair stirring in the hot breeze of the day.

I then notice the dried blood on her tattered cloths.
The vacant look in those clear blue eyes.
No hate, no screaming, tear stains on the dusty cheeks.
Looking straight toward the road.

I see the crater left by the bomb.
And I know of the young boy that died there.
It was only yesterday.
Unable to look into those eyes again.
I fear the reflection I would find staring back at me.