Sitting in my empty shop I don't want to feel
Like a spider with one foot on my web,
Tugged from daydream or despair
Each time someone drifts in,
Floats round, drifts out.
Their “thank you”s are followed
By my “you're welcome”s
Aiming to appear
Cheerily sincere.
Sometimes a gentle contact is casually offered:
Little touches of people's lives,
Snippets and snapshots for me to keep,
Tiny confidences exchanged and
Sudden open truths freely given,
To be lodged safe with a stranger.
I'm thankful for that change of air:
When the shutters are thrown wide,
The human spirit wafts through
Like a warm spring breeze,
And breathes fresh life into me.
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