13 Words and a Gesture
- 2 days ago
- 1 min read
Sitting in an unlikely place,
voices rising, hands trading,
conversation layered over routine.
A motorbike passes,
dust lifting, then settling.
An old man steps close.
A smile.
A pause.
Soak up the sun while we have it,
before the cold sets in.
Thirteen words.
A gesture.
Enough to shift the day.
I know he has known cold,
ground moving beneath his feet,
winds that do not ask permission,
things lost and not recovered.
Still, he offers nothing heavy.
Only warmth,
shared while it lasts.
Nothing added.
Nothing taken.
Thirteen words.
A gesture.