That Old Lady

As the slow-motion tramcar meandered through the busy streets,

my eyes perched on the houses that keep moving behind me, in a whisker,

I see this sweet and old lady, probably, very old, her skin saggy and crumpled,

her eyes fixated towards me, kind, blue eyes, almost too unreal to be true,

and then a sudden smile slipping off her lips; was it towards me, I wondered,

looking around, I tried to figure out, if there's someone else, smiling back at her,

but no, it was for me, and so I smile the best smile I could conjure, so much happy,

having received such a warm and gentle smile from a complete unknown.

Did she mistake me for someone else, or did she see in me, her grandson, whom she,

she missed dearly, maybe he stays far, far away, and her lonely heart wants a glance,

a glance at her grandson wants to ruffle his hair, or plant a kiss on his cheeks,

oh the pangs of the heart, the pain of long distances that stings like a bee,

every day, every single day, every single hour, every single second.

Maybe she keeps searching for her grandson in everyone she encounters, smiling,

wishing for a smile back, to unburden herself of her feelings that cloud her brain,

and that return smile probably fills her heart with that little ray of hope,

the hope of reuniting with her grandson, wherever he is present now, 

soon, very very soon.

***