The Eyes

By her looks, I would guess
  that she was nearing the life expectancy
  for a Vietnamese woman,
  especially one whose life may have been harsh.

Squatted low on the ground,
  she became almost invisible.
But, I felt her presence
  and heard her whisper up to me.

Glancing down as I strode past,
  I saw into her eyes -
    light, dancing, hungry -
  watched her hand raise to me -
    wrinkled, brown, small, hungry.

Yet, even as she smiled up at me,
  a knowing smile, loving eyes,
  I strode past her.

I strode past her...