A Small Kindness
“They’re free,” she repeated,
More loudly.
“The plastic bags.
Though they’re not supposed to be”.
And she proudly smiled
A conspiratorial gleam
In her eye.
She seemed to sense
My distraction.
At least, guessing in
My distant stare
That I was adrift,
And needed a small kindness.
Before, in my mindless
Wanderings through the aisles,
I was gnawed
By matters
I could not control.
Scenarios of my future self
Where I was laid low
And assailed.
Yet, even though
I only half-listened to the
Cheerful
Chattering shop workers,
I was pricked with envy.
How was it they had found
The trick to life?
Why were they not burdened
By tortures I endured?
The slow creeping dread
That kept me awake at night?
Love, laughter, friendship, family,
They had it all.
At least, I was fooled into thinking so.
Yet here was I,
Unfurling,
On my own.
No matter to the world.
Until, for a fleeting moment,
I was seen.
A smile.
A gleam.
A small kindness
That I carried with me,
If fleetingly,
Into the hard, uncaring morning.
