Across from me, on the bus this afternoon
a girl of age ninety, eyes of blue,
peering out from a body changed too soon
I saw the girl so charming in her youth.
Her hat reveals a woman of taste,
now, just to get off this bus, is a torturous fate.
She'll slowly make the way back to her place,
an apartment where no one awaits.
Blue eyes unchanged,
the body aged,
blue eyes you are my last witnesses, now.
Blue eyes unchanged,
the body aged,
blue eyes tell me what you wanted to be
when you grew up.
Blue eyes once reflected in her mother's gaze
on those summers as a child by the lake.
Blue eyes saw love's first embrace,
the boy down the road
I wonder if he's alive today.
Young girls go laughing past on the road,
no one pays attention to the old,
but, at least, we know justice will be served.
In the end everyone gets their turn.
Blue eyes unchanged,
the body aged,
blue eyes you are my last witnesses, now.
Blue eyes unchanged,
the body aged,
blue eyes tell me what you wanted to be
when you grew up.