Bare feet carried her along

the early morning pavement,

her face searching, seeking,

still believing in human kindness.

Eyes turned away from

the figure dressed in

pyjama pants and sweatshirt,

Saturday eyes, not wanting to know,

not wanting their weekend lives shattered.

I too looked away,

placed her in a glass cage

that I could step around.

What had she fled from,

to find herself in the heart of the city,

carrying nothing but thoughts deep within.

My heart ached, begged me to listen,

offer a smile or advice,

or a bus fare home.

My heart lost the struggle against my demon,

my fear of connecting with the unknown.

My inner voice triumphed -

don’t get involved, it’s not your concern.

Stay inside your own glass boundary,

grow a heart of stone.

Her eyes still haunt me,

searching, pleading for warmth, for connection.

Pink hearts on pyjama pants

stumble through my dreams.

One day I hope I’ll learn to forgive myself

for not reaching out, for not listening to my heart.