today i met a woman
with wrinkles around her eyes
and curly silver hair,
and bony shriveled hands
she wore too much blush
on her white sullen cheeks
and a purple flannel shirt
hung from her scrawny frame
her back was bent so low
it made me stand up taller
and she walked with a cane
that looked as worn out as her soul
a handmade mask was hiding her smile
but I could see from her eyes
that her heart was very weary
The cure for weariness is kindness, I thought
so I gave her a big smile
and began speaking of the weather-
about the snow that was melting
and the light that was returning
Her eyes fell to the ground,
looking somewhere far away
“Spring was my husbands favorite season-
and this will be the first year
that he’s not around to see it.”
my tongue seemed to stick
to the roof of my mouth
as I understood the weariness
behind her steel blue eyes
She didn’t stay long enough
for me to say “I’m sorry”
but something in me thinks
she wouldn’t have wanted to hear the words
I thought of her all day as the warm sun smiled
and the robins sang their song
in the tree outside my window
One day will be her final spring
one day will be mine, and one yours
our days are numbered
our time is short
spring comes each year
’til it doesn’t