(This about an encounter with a child on the number 17 bus)
Her mother glanced concern
from the front of the bus.
Reassured, acknowledged me;
did not make a fuss.
She jumped up beside me
onto the back seat;
talking of Christmas
and swinging her feet.
Recognising another
who understands
the value of play.
Chiming melody her voice.
She had plenty to say.
Bright beads on her braids;
pink, yellow and green.
The only genuine smile
this horrid day had seen.
Took my heart aglow with her
as she turned to me and waved.
I wonder, will she ever know;
by her sweet companionship
my pitiful life was saved.
Kathryn McCone Usher.
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