She left without grand gestures last night
But just a slight wave of her hand
And some sway on her hips,
As subtle as the smile that lingered on her face
As she read a message on her phone
Mere seconds before another phone
Ignited her body and extinguished her life.
Notice the explosive way she left today
And juxtaposed it with her quiet ways,
The world does tend to play tricks on us:
On those who just happen to pass by,
Unknowingly taking a north-bound bus to hell,
And picked a seat in the epicentre
Of a headline waiting to happen.
Imagine what she would be doing right now
If she had picked a different seat,
Or rode a different bus.
Surely the world is now a less bit subtle,
A little more rougher,
A bit more harsher,
Without her presence tonight.