JUST SITTING

I sit down with Grace.
She smiles at me.
At first we don’t talk.
Just sit.
Together.
Looking down the alley
at traffic.
A bus burps by.
A yellow taxi
rattles past.
Grace fans us both
with the newspaper.
Something about
just sitting
feels calming.
Grace lifts my hand,
holds it to her cheek.
“You are a dear,
dear girlie,” she says.