I was in a hurry to huddle back into the warmth of my bed on a winter night while I waited.
A little boy stopped by with lovely red roses, all of twelve or so, pretty face, innocent and not a speck or scar.
I was stumped by the pristine beauty of the lad but scared at the face of poverty that led to this, that made me so sad.
No warm clothes and feet bare made me look back, to say a prayer to the God incarnated there in the night pitch black.
I held his hand and took him along for some soles below his feet to warm and when I walked away, I knew that it was not enough or perhaps lukewarm.
I needed to do more so the warmth of my coat he adored.
His gaze blessed me, loved me at the same time and lit up his innocent face, the little child in return gave me a meditative grace.
Life is these little moments that sprout in you the true godliness. It was a drop in the ocean and not enough.
The joy of giving lies in little acts, life for many is harsh and gruff.
The innocent face lit up and lit my spirit he pranced away with mirth.
That moment in the foggy night shimmered and unveiled its worth.