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.