What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity. They are beautiful trifles,
be sure but scattered along life’s. pathway the good they do is inconceivable.

As he sat there in the corridor of the convalescent hospital.Trying desperately to maneuver his wheelchair, his bony fingers trembled.

A tattered slipper fell off his foot.
I asked if I might help him. He nodded,
And then began to weep.
For brief moment I put my arms around his sagging shoulders.

Then I wheeled him down the narrow hall,
To his small warm room. Tucking the net on bed, I leaned down to kiss him good night,

“It looks just like sunshine,” he said
“What looks like sunshine? “I asked. And his fingers gently touched the lines going from corners of my eyes.

Which such observation ,how could anyone mind growing old and being sick? He thanked me as he could,then nodded nervously.

” I hope somebody someday will help you
Just like you have helped me. ” “Each moment has its own beauty, “I said.

” A moment which was never seen and felt before,and which shall never be seen again ,” and he closed his eyes forever.

What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are humanity ,they are trifles, to be sure,
But scattered along life’s pathway,
the good they do is inconceivable.

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