Redirected Gift

Crimson cheeks,
Painted by the winter wind.
Perched above a boyish face,
Never replete of smile.

Venerable, knitted stocking cap,
Pulled just above the brows.
Faded coat, holes in both,
A boy unconcerned with style.

Bare, chapped hands,
Took my arm,
Guided me through distracted throngs,
Safely across the street.

Waited long enough,
‘Til my balance gained.
Then scurried back.
Another kind act to complete.

My pocket book,
Overflowed with nothing.
Carried but one package,
Trivial gift for a dying friend.

Small prayer left my lips,
For this dear, kind lad.
Hoping from heaven,
His reward would descend.

Caught my breath,
Walked to an iron door.
Ascended twelve steep steps.
My friend languished close by.

Neatly wrapped gift,
Held tight to my chest,
Final words struck my ears,
Then watched him die.

My heart full of pain,
Collapsed to my knees.
Sobbing uncontrollably,
Whispered my farewell.

Warmth surrounded me,
Descended from above.
Through frenzied activity,
Heard a soft bell.

Deceased friend was safe,
Assured in my heart.
Trivial gift I’d bought,
Seemed lighter than before.

Back in the street,
Rushed to the corner.
Time-weakened eyes scoured for the lad.
Finding him became my chore.

Sigh of relief,
Spotted him at last,
Weighed down by many bags.
Helping an anxious, young lass.

Exhausted mother of four,
Towing her young.
Mouths muted “thank you,”
Young saint full of class.

Once task was completed,
Offered the gift.
First was refused,
Eventually accepted with appreciation.

Young lad opened package,
Removed gloves from inside.
Fit his hands perfectly,
Filled him with elation.

Originally written on 1/22/2006