Visited an art gallery
at lunchtime. I felt less
than engaged with the works on show –
maybe because of stress.
An old lady spied earlier,
now out of her wheelchair,
she came shuffling into the room
as I was leaving there.
Raising her black gloved hand to me,
gently, I placed my hand
in hers and she said something I
did not quite understand.
“I am almost one.” She told me.
I waited, she stroked her
fingers down my fluffy fleece top
and said “I like your fur.”
In return I replied, “Thank you.”
blushed, with some sort of smirk.
At this she smiled, watched me depart.
Break over, back to work.