A Story In Every One
You can tell by her worn at the edge shoes,
She needs to find that new job soon.
Heavily breathing out the woes,
Dusting the cobwebbed bed of one,
But dreaming of the silverbirds above,
The places that the people go,
Things they find. How they fall in love.
Mumbling to herself in the four blue wall flat,
(That she painted to keep her calm),
She talks about a missing cat,
And looks painful eyed at the sky,
Even an animal can escape,
What she has feared all her life long,
Degradation to a low jape.
Standing on the bus through London. Last day,
Or so she believes in her mind.
Her path turns a different way.
The woman behind starts a laugh,
One of the joyful, infectious bright laughs,
You can’t help but fall into smiles,
And see: she doesn’t go by halfs.
Never knowing who you’ll meet is joyous;
A real treat to be surprised in.
With your smiles please be frivolous,
Give and give and give again thrice,
Just as much as not knowing who you’ll meet,
You neither know who you could help,
Simply by a smile or a treat.