Smile

There is a dying face in this room
across the way
she sits silently, just a drifting memory
eyes residing on the floor
memories creating a locked box in which
she is.
A simple smile could break it,
the lid falling to the floor;
but instead there is silence
the fear
it keeps them distanced
the passing by
their straight paths
commanding to keep walking.
But this poem
it isn't about them
the fearful
those many faces,
and no, not even about her
that broken chain, shifting in the chill.
It is about how I, this
simple stranger
one passing by
stepped off the path, the solid lines
and offered a simple
silent
smile.