She is kindness personified.
She wears it lightly
On her sleeve
This slightly incongruous woman
With her flaxen grey hair, baggy trousers
Breeches and a pipe
Running a store
On the last outpost of civilisation.
Under grey autumn skies
You wait to board the ferry
Having bought some essentials
At the woman’s store.
She declines your offer to pay
“Pay me when you get back” she retorts.
She knows who you are
Yet you barely know her.
But you won’t be back
And she knows the truth.
Her generosity is at odds
Especially to strangers
With the picturesque but unforgiving wilderness
Around her.
But you are not a stranger
Not to her
And she’ll take the secret with her
When she meets her maker.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nowadays theres hardly anyone like her Shes an angel nice poem dear Kewal -10 anjali