Gift Card

Walking the streets,
I spy a colorful plastic rectangle.
I pick it up,
Wipe off the dirt.
It's a gift card,
Twenty dollars for Old Navy.
So I walk there,
Card in pocket.
I stare through the window
And begin to go in,
Before I think of something.
Someone.
Turning around,
I head for the home of a little girl I know.
I feel my heart pounding with excitement,
With joy.

I finally arrive at the right house.
I take a deep breath,
Trying to calm my fluttering stomach.
I walk up the path
And I brush the bushes with my fingertips.
I quietly lift the lid of the rusted mailbox,
The only ornament on the dilapidated,
Well-loved face of the house.
I place the card inside and close it.
It's hinge squeaks a little.
I go home
And the next day I witness that little girl
In a brand new outfit,
A radiant smile upon her beautiful face.
That ecstasy is all I see.
All that matters.

I go home.
Crawl into bed.
And dream about magic.

Simple Things

Fancy clothes,
Expensive cars,
Diamonds,
Mansions.
Why?
It doesn't make you better.
It makes you forget the important things,
The simple things.
Laughing with a friend
Or singing in the shower.
A walk in the park,
The smell of rain.
The young flowers of spring,
The warmth of fire on a peaceful winter night.
The love of a pet,
Watching movies with your family,
Reading a good book,
Eating ice cream for dinner.
These are things that should matter.
Not how much money you have.

Where I'm From [(Class Assignment from two years ago)]

I am from nature,
From Hot Topic and fantasy worlds.
I am from the scented, the flowered, the cozy.
I am from the oak, the rose, the puffy clouds,
The cactus, the daisy, the bubbling brook,
Care-free and happy.
I am from prayer and love, from Rich and Jen.
I am from the defensive and thoughtful,
From honesty and consideration.
I am from God and His love.
I am from Old America, turkey and pasta,
From the Polish immigrants, the artful.
Albums and scrapbooks
That keep memories alive;
Always fading, never truly gone,
The thrive through the years.