He held Mommy's hand
As they walked downtown
And eyed the tattered lady
With a sad, pathetic frown.
Selling roses made of paper
She was sitting on the ground
Holding up a battered can
She barely made a sound.
He wanted to take a look
Or maybe even buy
But Mommy dragged him past
And he wondered why.
Later in the afternoon
The weather turned to cold
Sitting at the kitchen table
Wads of paper he did fold.
Sticking out a long pink tongue
He tried to make a rose
But he grumbled and he fumbled
"This can't be how it goes!"
Suddenly an idea formed
He began to hash a plan
Running to the garage
He quickly built a stand.
The boy folded all the paper
Creased all that he could find
Selling paper planes
Was what he had in mind.
He sold them to the neighbors
To strangers and to friends
He'd earned quite a stash
When he finished in the end.
Early the next morning
They were downtown again
He clutched his money jar
With the ones, fives and the tens.
Arriving at the toy store
He didn't go inside
Pulling from Mommy's grasp
He quickened up his stride.
Seeing the tattered lady
He flashed a big, wide smile
And gave her the jar of money
Picking one rose from her pile.