The girl's cloak pulled around her tight,

she was jostled, one side then another.

Lost in the crowd, lost in the night,

in the teeming world of humans, just another.

Leaves fluttered, whispered, rustled

green, speckled yellow and brown,

unheard by the buzzing bustle

of the uncaring town.

Trains whistled, their smoke

trailing; a train on its own.

A laugh, a chuckle, a joke

Voices scattered, everywhere thrown.

And the girl wondered in that busy crowd

Would anyone cry at her absence?

Her head bowed, on she ploughed.

Had she made any difference?

In this motley of sounds and noises,

it is a wonder if the lost girl knew.

that under the old oak tree, a quiet voice

whispered 'Thank you'.

And far away, in a moonlit meadow,

another voice chimed in.

Yet another face pressed against a window

murmured in gratitude, unheard in the din.

And hundreds of voices rose up high

telling the lone girl that she mattered.

They rose until they filled the sky

Yet, quiet, they went unheard.

And the lone girl suddenly closed her eyes

as something inside her unfurled.

Perhaps the wind whispered in her ears

That she'd made all the difference in the world.

The lone girl raised her head up high

And felt the 'Thank you's' in the sky.