A Poem: The Red Scarf
“I like your red scarf.” the worn lady said as she looked at the ground which served as her bed.
Our eyes never met though her words hung in my ears,
and as I walked on they became sharp and clear.
Rushing back to her corner she was still there – I gave her my scarf which she wrapped round her hair.
She looked up at me from her home on the ground, her words were soft so I knelt myself down.
“You didn’t just listen you heard what I said. It’s the warmth I was craving not the beautiful red.”
The gloves on my hands came off as well and I stood up to leave this poor woman’s hell.
As I walked away she called, “Come see me again! I’m always right here.” But she left that corner with me that day and in my mind is held dear.