Of a stern and ancient November
afternoon, life retreats from us
slowly yet incessantly.
As it inches away, how precious
becomes the bus driver's warm
welcoming nod, the sincere smile
of a bank teller asking, 'How
have you been? '
How magnified by a thousand
become these small gestures
of kindness, recognized now
for what they have always been:
priceless, irreplaceable treasures.
David Kowalczyk
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/like-portentous-shadows/
