Friday, April 10, 2009
We shared the makeshift bench for a few minutes.
Long enough for her to finish the cigarette she was holding.
The other hand clutched a picture ... very tattered and worn
Like it had been looked at a thousand times.
She stubbed out her smoke and stood.
For the first time, she met my eyes.
Hers were filled with tears, unshed.
Then she left.
Not a word was spoken, there was nothing to say.
But somehow, our hearts touched.