Contributor: Michael Magyar

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John held out his small hand to collect coins
from passersby. Leaves fall and he catches
them too, their crisp gold,
sense of hope.
The streets of NYC were dirty
and so was he. His father and mother hold the cardboard signs
asking for help.

John’s sickly hand becomes weaker each day,
as he keeps his hand extended for someone,
anyone, to help.

The call goes unanswered
leaving the husband and wife
in pain and forever restless,
with winter's fierce sting,
they are left
Numb
like the frostbite spreading through their fingers.


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