Caren Krutsinger Poet Prose Poetry

Showing Her I Care

She was a stranger who needed to tell her story,
so naturally she told me.
My hazel eyes are my downfall.
I do not know how to work them.
I don’t know how to ice them or harden them or make them look uncaring.

I don’t know how to control my mouth either.
I don’t have the uncomfortable smile others do.
So, I sit and listen and listen and listen and listen and listen.

Showing her, I care while my family rolls their eyes.
Icing and hardening their own eyes, because they know how to do it.
They are wearing the uncomfortable smile I can’t do too.
They are wishing she would take our order, so we could eat.
I can feel them glaring at me.

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Nancy Kaufman June 3, 2021 at 9:38 AM Oh Ms. Caren, your counseling empathy came thru. I'm sure you made this random person's day..Nancy Caren Krutsinger June 4, 2021 at 12:55 PM This happens to me so many times I have no words to describe how I don't even notice any more

L Milton Hankins June 3, 2021 at 8:58 AM Oh, my. This has happened to me. Must be common to everyone in the pastor/counselor professions. Sometimes they would tell me their sad tale of woe hoping I would give them money. I seldom had any extra to give! Caren Krutsinger June 4, 2021 at 12:56 PM I never get that; they must sense I am not the kind to fork over cash. Ha!