There was a knock.
Soft — like someone unsure if they should be there.
When I opened the door, she stood beneath the dim sky.
A woman in a simple white dress,
the fabric stirring slightly in the evening breeze.
Her smile was small, almost apologetic,
like someone arriving too late, or too early.
In one hand, she held a small case.
It didn’t seem heavy, though her fingers gripped it tightly.
No jewelry sparkled on her hands.
Her skin was pale against the fading light,
and the wide-brimmed hat sat low, almost shielding her eyes.
She looked like she had walked here from somewhere far beyond the village —
bringing with her a quiet countryside charm.
Her gaze met mine.
It wasn’t nervous or bold.
It was calm, like we already understood something
without having exchanged a word.
A mysterious encounter that didn’t need explanation.
She was not the kind of unexpected visitor one prepares for —
no message, no warning, no reason.
Just her and the open road behind her.
I didn’t ask why she had come.
Some people don’t bring reasons with them.
This was an unexpected visitor,
arriving as simply as the night itself.
I stepped aside.
Because sometimes, an act of kindness is nothing more
than opening your door
to a stranger at the door
who has nowhere else to be.
An ardent believer in that a good poem isn’t one that comes from, but through you, Pravin enjoys writing short but meaningful poetry. Write to him at pravinkumar2788@gmail.com to know more about him.