She fell, that awkward fall of a child, knees grazed, and palms skinned.
Her mother oblivious, her gaze locked to the siren in her hand.
The child’s lips trembled but the cry was still forming in her head.
Seconds passed like minutes, do I go, lift, and soothe the forgotten infant?
Or do I walk on by and stay safe from accusing and wondering minds?
It’s only a fall, she will be fine, if it were serious I would indeed help.
Would I?
A braver woman than I rushed to help, perhaps better protected by her female form.
The wail exploded and “mother” snapped from her spell and rushed forth.
I watched on, saddened that here I am, a father, grandfather, and human,
worrying what others will think was my motive to help.
Sad times.