a tired old woman sits beside me.
her hands are gnarled and rough.
her hair is a knot of silver,
with a few remaining ebony strands.
she glances at me and then i see,
endless pools of stories of trials, of experience, of grief. i think she doesn't even notice me, as she stares far beyond the lee worrying about things, it seems. her shoes aren't new.
her garments look faded and aged.
i see the difficult life she has.
she stands up and walks
to the waiting cashier and pays.
she draws a few coins from her pocket,
one, two, three, she counts.
the moment she finishes paying,
she slowly walks away.
i hastily call and approach her, while i say,
" auntie, forgive my intrusion,
but may i help you in any way ?
i see the tiredness in you.
mayhap, you'll do me the honnor,
of having coffee with me."
she looks at me and smile, sadly.
she nods her head and says,
" thank you, dear one, for offering.
i'd love to; yet, i must be on my way."
i take her hand, gently,
and slip her some money, i have.
she looks surprised;
her eyes glisten wit tears.
i walk away, quickly;
so, she cannot give the money back to me.
" dear one, God bless you. thank you for this,"
i hear her whisper, as i leave.
~~ Diwa ~~... See more
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