Speak with the Language of Love...

He is crying.
That is the first thing that strikes me as I cross the street towards him. I see people walk past him as he sits on the ground, his eyes staring at them with hope as he raises his hands towards them. There must be something wrong with him because they do not look at him as they pass him by. 

He is talking.
It is a language I have tried to understand for a long time but it eludes me. I understand the tones of the voices occasionally but never the words. He is talking to them but they do not listen as they pass him by.

He is begging.
I understand that now as a woman throws a coin at him. He tries to touch her feet but she withdraws, her disgust apparent as she walks away. He picks up the coin from the ground and kisses it. Nobody cares as they pass him by.

I come to him. 

I want him to stop crying. I want him to be happy. Unlike all those who passed him by, I don't have the right words to tell him because I don't speak his language. I don't have coins to give him because I don't have any money. So I give him the only thing I have.

I place my paw upon his hand and wag my tail. He looks at me, shocked by the contact with a fellow living creature. I climb onto his lap and place my paws upon his gaunt frame gently. He doesn't resist. I lick his tears away gently, willing him to understand what I have to say. A moment later, he does.

He is smiling. 
He knows that he is loved.





Authors note: This is my take for the prompt on WriteTribe based on the quote by Rumi. To see more awesome prompts by fellow bloggers, click the picture below to head on over to WriteTribe.

09.05. 2016: Yay! I won for this!