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.