The Offer

The woman boards the bus
Her hair white, face creased
Skin loose
Yet her step firm. Steady

Would you like my seat? I ask
My hair dusted pepper-gray

Is there a slight hesitancy
A pause
A flickered frown
As she considers my offer?

She glances down the aisle
To the overflowing seats
Negotiates with her inner voices

She exhales slightly
Turns back toward me
Her deep brown eyes reflect decades of living
Her lips hold a whisper of humor
Some understanding
Just beyond my grasp

Then, with a calm surrender, she accepts
Why yes, thank you

Photo source: Walk the Goats


 

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