Little old lady

We met an old lady today.

She nearly made me cry. I'm not sure why. She wasn't dying from some disease or cancer.

There was something about the way she anxiously described her pain. It cried of desperation, for someone to believe her. It was so pitiful that I wanted to reach out to her, take her hand and tell her that I believe her. Even though the doctors considered her a waste of time.

She was very nice, that old lady. She hobbled around with a walking aid and looked at you with earnest eyes.

And perhaps deep down inside, all she wanted was someone to believe in her pain and acknowledge it. And while we could not do anything for it, it was real.

She reminded me of someone. Somewhat disturbingly so.

Poor little lady, no one around to take notice.
Poor little lady, so alone and frail.

Your smile is beautiful and cracked.
Your laughter desperate and sad.

Poor little old lady,
why won't you sit still for a spell?

Poor little old lady,
all is not well.

~fallen estella~