The cold

In the cold
she sits alone
silently watching them pass her by.
Intently looking for even the slightest glance
in her direction.
Something hopeful to get her through the day.
instead eyes are diverted away
any contact comes with contempt, or is it disgust?
And so she wonders
what it is that their eyes have to say.
She has learned that sometimes
eyes are more honest than words.
Pulling her coat tightly around her shoulders
she lays her head back, and faces the stars.
Now there, is something hopeful.
And she closes her eyes
as the cold seeps into her bones.