The Question

The Question



Last night I met a little girl,

A sweet girl i had dreamt.

She wanted to ask a question;

Her hair and dress were unkempt.



She walked up close, I bent to hear,

The question took her a while.

She stood up straight, took a breath,

"Miss, do you ever smile?"



This little girl who seemed so frail;

It took me by surprise.

I looked down, and saw it now,

The pain that filled her eyes.



I took her aside, and sat her down.

The answer for some reason, I fought.

I looked around and then back down,

"You know, I smile a lot.



"I smile when I'm excited,

I smile when I'm sad.

And sometimes, if you make me laugh,

I smile when I'm mad.



"I smile when I'm walking

And notice something new.

I smile when I do bad things,

I smiled when I saw you.



"The only reason I smile

Is not to show I'm glad.

I smile to cover up my hurt,

And to hide the pain I've had."



She looked up at me strangely,

New questions filled her mind.

I knew I had surprised her too;

I'm not what she thought she'd find.



"People smile all the time,

Even when they dream.

But to ask if they are happy,

Now, that's a different thing."