Old Lady Talking

By Christie Lund Coles

I had not meant to pause at all,
Except to speak, to pass the time of day,
Smiling a little pityingly,
For what was there she could have to say?

I had not counted on her eyes,
With a hunger like a child’s for bread;
And surely I was not prepared
For the swift, nostalgic words she said.

Quickly as a summer storm they came,
The words, the details of her years,
Her youth, not too unlike my own,
Her flowered hopes, her laughter, tears.

My hours were full. I should not stay,
And yet, her day was strangely drear.
And someday, I may listen to the past
And wait and wait for someone who will hear.

(1955)