A Priceless Gift Poem by Ima Ryma

Sitting alone on a bench, I
Waited for the bus now quite late.
Every few minutes I would sigh,
Bemoaning my unlucky fate.
A car passed in this time and place.
In the back window a young girl,
We shared a moment face to face.
I noticed she had not a curl,
Hairless most likely because of
Treatment for some cancer she had.
For that moment I felt her love.
My outlook turned to good from bad.

A gift to me from this young child,
Who passing by me waved and smiled.