A neighbor thanked me for a simple kindness,
restaurant takeout my diet wouldn’t allow.
So off I went, the food still fresh and hot,
to find a someone who needed sustenance more 
than i.
He was young, wary, browned, and thin, 
as one might expect from stranded youth.  
He greeted me with a cautious smile— 
measuring me, and what game I played.
I told him my tale as best I could, and
mentioned the restaurant where the meal 
had been prepared.
He studied me with understanding eyes and
politely corrected my pronunciation, 
as he might his grandfather stumbling over 
a meaningless rap song line.
He took my offering and traded his thanks.
A grin played his lips, a joggled memory perhaps.
Taken aback, I managed, “Yes, that’s it,”
and went on my way, never too old to learn.
Photo by Demeter Attila on

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