The Bus

I saw a child on the bus today, around the age of two, who, for reasons unknown, could not stop smiling. Not toothy grins. Serene, knowing upturns of the lips. Wide chocolate eyed, he joyfully observed his surroundings from the confines of his stroller carefully, passing no judgement.
He sees with fresh eyes the palm tree, the pink purse, the yield sign. I wonder if he's singing "the wheels of the bus go round and round" in his head or if he thinks in english or his own unspoken language.
Sweet child, you carry the preciousness of life in your tiny bones--and I hate the world you now love--knowing one day it will steal your flawless site.