Dear stranger...

I saw her.

She was standing right next to me.

She was a lot younger than me,

couldn't have been older than 13,

I guess, so it seemed.

She had a little pink suitcase with dots,

in her hand and a big backpack was dangling over her shoulders.

I only glanced at her for a few seconds,

long enough to spot a few teardrops

rolling down her colored cheeks.

It was hardly noticeable,
but to me it was obvious.
She was crying.
I recognized her tears.
Tears I had often cried myself.
I heard her silent scream of despair
and felt her pain.



But what was she crying for,
I did not know.
There I was doubting about what to do.
Maybe she'd tell to mind my own business.
Maybe she'd think I'm rude,
but I could not leave her standing there,
So I did what I thought I had to do.




'What are you crying for?', I asked her.
I did not know what to expect.
She responded wiping the tears out of her big dark eyes.
'I do not know what I have to do to get where I need to go, she responded.
'There's no need to cry,' I said.
Thank technology nowadays,
I scribbled the way
she had to travel on a piece of paper she took out her backpack
and accompanied her to the bus since the trains were not riding,
because of railroad maintenance.
She did not know this,
and there she went.