Fifteen

Bug-eyed
in the bustling city of New York,
shop fronts caught my wandering eyes.
When suddenly I halted to marvel at
“The cutest pair of shoes I have ever seen.”
I was fifteen.

I could feel the pink wallet in my coat pocket
swinging in large strides with every step I took.
I pulled it out at the door to the shop
to count all my savings.
I was fifteen.

I turned the knob
when out of the corner of my eye
I spotted something
more eye-catching than the storefront:
a piece of cardboard only a few inches wide;
and scribbled in black Sharpie:
“Anything helps. God bless.”
I was fifteen.

From my wallet I took out the amount
that the things in the storefront cost.
With trembling hands and a heart filled with love,
I bent down and dropped the money into the red plastic cup.
Fifteen.