Lost in her mind of somewhere other than here,
she was there
collecting into a rusted supermarket trolley, lots of somethings.
Had I not asked her what these somethings meant to her
her eyes wouldn't have sparkled into life.
Treasure! she replied.
Within the puzzlement of, an inward thought, I asked myself
She opened the palm of her age wracked hand
and when I accepted the small box offered she'd prized
made not out of silver foil lined cardboard and smelling of tobacco
but in her other-worldly sorrowful evaluation-
She smiled assuming how wonderful
the effect of her giving would be in having done so.
In her toothless beaming smile
I saw something just as wonderful
that had I mocked it
I would have become the poorer of us both
I would have been made into a someone
who used something
that was worth nothing.