The Gift

The Gift

The old woman stood in tatters,

Alone in the world,

Lonely at heart,

Begging for tidbits from the passersby,

Her near and dear ones had left her,

To the ravages of destiny.

Her tiny malnourished body,

Ached for a loaf of bread.

Or why not a sausage?

She asked herself.

But she knew,

That would be aiming too high.

How about a Pastry?

She had not tasted one in a long time.

All creamy and gooey

Pink, Chocolatey, or White

Like the ones she saw in the bakery.

She heaved a sigh,

And pinched herself.

She should stay real.

She told herself severely.

A young lad of not more than ten,

Appeared suddenly from behind her,

He had bright blue eyes.

The sight of him filled her heart with love, 

Her eyes shone bright,

Like a Lotus blooming in a pond.

He reminded her of her son when young.

The son who had discarded her cruelly when old.

The boy with the blue eyes held out a packet,

Smiling shyly at her.

She took the packet in her hands, 

And patted the lad on his shoulder,

He smiled again.

And her once youthful dimples crinkled,

Like the blossoming of a rosebud.

She gently opened the packet,

What she saw stunned her.

How could the boy have read her mind?

For inside the packet,

Were Sausages, Pastries, and loaves of bread.

She looked around sharply.

But the young lad was nowhere to be seen.

She screwed up her wrinkled face,

And looked up and down the street,

But no, she could not see him.

She had stopped believing in the almighty,

Long long ago,

But that night she prayed just once,

For a long and happy life for her benefactor,

Wherever in the universe he maybe.