Spells

 

She paints pebbles with rainbows

And places them on walls

Poetry on larger stones

For others to find

 

It is a small act of kindness

Of acknowledging our plight

She takes the paints and daubs

Her handprint on a slate

 

All over the footpaths and walks

Her art is left to the elements

A bright sun shining

through dark clouds

 

the people who pass say

‘bless the little girl

For doing this and cheering us up’

Her work is appreciated

 

But there is a darkness in these stones

For the young girl is eighty seven

And knows not what she does

Only that the colours make her feel good

 

She walks with her carer

Short distances from home

And drops the stones

When they become heavy

 

She has touched

The beating heart

Of neighbours

Who ignore her

 

She has placed

little pieces of her soul

for you to find

and treasure

 

the old lady in the big house

has stepped from her fog

and thrown magic artefacts

from her handbag of cracked leather

 

and where they land

hope grows

and the day

seems brighter