Smile
One cold Sunday morning
I walked across the road
Cold wind striking my cheeks, leaving its bleeding marks
Hands stuffed in my pockets, feet peeping through my socks
I sat on the cold steps outside an old church
I had no other place to shelter.
People came and people went
Carrying heavy hymnals
Wearing pretty clothes within fancy coats, stockinged feet in striking shoes
Some threw me coins, some just passed by
Till a little one came running up, took my hands in his little ones
Looked up into my eyes and smiled.
That my friend, made me warm
Forget my hunger and made me strong
To look through this cold day
And see another
Better and beautiful one.
The winter went and Summer came
I had a little shop by then
Fixing bicycle tyres, mending broken brakes
Hands covered with grease, forever on my knees
I sat on a little stool in my tiny rickety shed
I had a place now to shelter.
Children came and children went
Bringing bicycles old and new
Gaily painted shiny ones brought some, some ones battered by fond use
To some I was a friend, to others just a bicycle-man
Till one day came to my shed, my little friend who took my hands
And smiled at me on the cold stone steps.
He brought his sparkling new bicycle
Steady my handle, I can’t handle
This bicycle, it makes me tumble
In his eyes, I saw fear and hope
I bent down
And studied the cycle spokes.
“My little friend”, to him I said
“The fear is only in your head
Climb on the seat, look only at the road ahead.”
I looked down at him, smiled and said, “I know you can.”
He looked back a long moment and smiled
He gripped the handle and rode, bold down the road.
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