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Tokens for Change
Rumbling
erupts from the tracks above,
and then down below
cars await the turn of green.
Beep! Beep!
Briskly
people old and young
whiz across the gray concrete
with no pause for a simple breath,
only a place in mind.
Quickly,
I follow their lead.
My hair bounces,
flying behind.
And then I slow.
Pleading
is the man in tattered clothes,
shifting side to side on his crutches,
with only one leg to balance on,
by the subway steps.
Shaking
is the coffee cup in his hand.
The softest clanging is heard
amongst the sounds of society.
Cling! Cling!
Guiltily,
I walk by
with only a solid ten
I wish not to give up.
Onwards to Rite Aid, I amble.
Cha-ching!
I purchase what I need,
and out the door I go,
glancing carelessly
at my change.
Determined,
I approach
at a slowing pace.
Cupped in one hand
was the $1.86 or so.
Plop!
In the change goes.
The man smiles,
“Thank you.”
A silent welcome is passed.
Away
I turn, as the routine resumes.
Clang! Clang!
They may neglect the poor man,
but I will not.
Small
as it may be to us,
grateful is he to such kindness.
No reward is asked for, as I want
only the opportunity to do more.
Leaping
to greatness
must start with one first step.
You may not take it,
but I will.
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When I was a child my mother said to me, “If you become a soldier, you’ll be a general. If you become a monk, you’ll be the pope.” Instead I became a painter and wound up as Picasso. --Pablo Picasso