Kindness is Free – A Poem

I took a19725786-Woman-hand-holding-a-washcloth-isolated-on-a-white-background--Stock-Photo

seat beside her.

The coffee shop

was bustling with

people and the

only empty seat

was beside this

woman. She had

black hair that

framed her face

like a curtain

made of silk

and for a

moment, it looked

as if her

hair was blowing

in the wind.

She was smartly

dressed as if

she had come

right from work.

She looked sad,

removed from the

world around her,

as if there

was a invisible

barrier that she

held between herself

and all of us.

I took my

tea to the

table and sat,

opening my book.

It was at

that moment she

began to cry.

Heaving sobs erupted

out of her

and I watched

as tears started

to pour from

her eyes, leaving

crystal paths in

their wake on

her skin. Others

in the restaurant

sneered at her,

looking at her

with disdain, as

if it was

unacceptable that she

would show her

pain in public.

I did the

only thing I

could think of.

I held out

a packet of

tissues to her.

“Ma’am? Here you go.”

I said softly.

She looked at

me with large

frightened eyes as

if surprised I

was there. She

shook her head.

“I’m okay! I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay!”

I don’t know

if she was

trying to convince

herself of this

or me, but

I held out

the packet of

tissues to her again.

“It’s all right Ma’am. Take them.”

She did with

shaking hands and

blew her nose,

dried her eyes.

She sat there

for a moment

longer and then

got up to

go. Before she

left, she looked

right at me

and her eyes

seemed a little brighter.

“Thank you.”

She whispered. I

watched her go,

hoping that with

my small gesture,

I brought her

some measure of


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