Rare people

  

when I have a hard time

I always remember the dark alleys

of clinics facing each other,

where there is a cleaning lady carrying a mop and a bucket.

she would always wear a red shirt and black trousers,

hair tied

I suppose a uniform,

sometimes she would walk past us,

smiling gently.

my aunt would always manage to ask questions,

she would answer

and I would sit to listen

where it begins to go awkwardly and polite

But she was always too soft,

and genuine,

she makes people feel patient,

human.