Books Magazine

What's Your Name?

By Ashleylister @ashleylister

Because I thought it was Wednesday (and not Thursday) today's post is both late and short.
There was a time about 10 years ago when I returned home to my London flat and felt guilty for not properly acknowledging someone. On realising I couldn't even describe him, despite only passing thirty minutes earlier, I wrote this:
I passed you on Blackfriars Bridge, dropped some change in a polystyrene cup, and said - you're welcome.
Your sign said you were hungry, I thought money would be enough to fill the gap,
But how could it?
I should have stopped, asked your name, and allowed you for minute to be someone again.
Thank you for reading, Lara

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