Fulton Street Station, A train, January 7th, 2014
She dropped a dime. “Miss, Miss.” I caught up to her. “You dropped this.” “Thanks.” I said, “I love small change.” She said, “You should have kept it.” We got on the train. She agreed. Oops, she was on the wrong train. Native New Yorker, from Queens. So nice. Such a sweet poem.
Thank you father for
all that I have become
Your support and love
has guided me
to flourish in this
new stage of life
Love, truth, support
3 words that will always
spell out dad.
Thank you,
on this subway,
with this pen and pad.