April PAD 4: Only Thirty Inches Apart

She’s pretty
short; her age
from a face marred
with youth
and struggle.

Three plates juggle
for balance on the ledge
of her forearm.
Two sets of bright eyes
blink at the free meal
from behind her jeans.

“Would you like some beans?”
I offer, but her lids
don’t lift though she nods.
Her gaze reminding mine:
pride doesn’t allow
for eye contact.

She didn’t come back
a third time. I can
only hope they found a home.
She knows they’re at the age
where they will remember.
I’m old enough too, not to forget.

Prompt: Pick a type of person and write about him and her.
Today’s Writing Setting: At my “desk.”

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