Across the street through a steady rain,
She looked so small and frail.
I watched from my window in the cafe,
The drops hitting the glass, creating a veil.
8 or 9 years old, at most,
Walking alone, looking up to the sky.
Drops hitting her nose, eyes and cheeks.
My mind followed the rhythm of her dainty stride.
I was sad for her.
I imagined she was lonely,
Not tended to,
Cold and hungry.
Those in her path chose not to see her.
They shielded their gazes with their umbrellas.
Rushing by, eager for their destinations,
Avoiding any contact, they seemed to care less.
I continued to watch, I was drawn to her.
I realized she was happy, all smiles, just living her dreams.
The cold, the rain, and the breeze brought her joy.
Content with the present, and her few means.
Leaning on a lamp post kicking water from puddles,
She stopped and looked down the street.
A young woman walked toward her,
The warmest smile, arms out for her, ready to greet.
The woman was scantly dressed,
Clothes tattered and torn.
Her world waited before her with an embrace.
Holding each other, not at all forlorn.
From my window in the cafe,
A tear on my face, in my warm, dry space.
I watched the truest love before me.
My heart was full and at peace.