The rain is beating against my window.
Coming down in frightening sheets.
Dark clouds hang defiantly in the summer sky.
It looks like midnight and daytime at the same time.
The normally busy bustling street, slows to a snail’s pace.
I watch as people run to nearby entryways, to stave off the sudden downpour.
I watch as the little old lady pushes her cart through the rain, along the sidewalk.
I can feel the sadness creep in.
I wonder what her story is.
How she came to this life.
I find myself rushing down the stairs and standing in the doorway of my building.
Hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
Maybe call out to her.
But she is gone.
I wonder where she went to.
I argue with myself, if I should go after her and look for her.
In my mind, I think she’ll be safe tonight.
I convince myself, that she will.
Though as I turn to walk back up the stairs, my heart suddenly aches for her.
Next time, I think.
Next time, I’ll find her and talk with her.
Next time, I’ll learn her story and try to help.
Next time, I’ll be quicker.
Kim V. Poetry