I prefer I stay home lest

Running into someone, and

Having to interact, but, I can’t forget

This old lady I met on the pavement, who seemed

As willing to interact as I was; when she

Kept perusing through her dilapidated phone with

Fingers; so callous yet shaky, and

Avoided crossing the road time and again,

Even though the signal had turned red, and

How her hooded eyes peered at me when

I asked her if I could help, and,

She held a smile of relief, I suppose,

As she nodded and walked along gripping my hand,

Then, bent a little, for

I was a few centimeters shorter, and whispered,

“I get nervous you know, now that I’m a little old.”

And I, smiled a flamboyant one so as to calm;

Both her and my disturbed self, and said,

“I’m seventeen and socially awkward; believe me, you’re doing great.”

~ Nida

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