Kind lady on the bench,
thank you for talking to me.
Of course you can sit down, I say.
Tentatively I wait to see who will speak first.
You take the plunge
and we dive into conversation,
we try to find out who we both know
(no-one, unless Jesus counts)
and what we both care about
(several things).
We both care about our families, it seems,
and you tell me about your grandchildren
and how you love to cook for them
and you ask me if I have a girlfriend.
(Not yet, it seems.)
You smile and then you tell me
how this war in Ukraine is getting on your nerves:
you feel sick. you can’t eat.
I don’t blame you, I say.
You are a kind lady, I want to say.
The bus arrives, and we both sit down:
you at the front,
me at the back,
and we wish each other a nice day.