Sunday Delight

It was a winter of 1929,

I drag my feet with heartless steps,

Just to put some smiles across at a cost of a small pinch on my wallet,

An ice cream treat at moshes weighs in pure gold,

If you slog for few dimes,

And lucky enough to have a day Job,

I order the cheapest cream , screaming ruthlessly its 'my favourite. flavour',

I digg deep in my waistcoat pockets, pulled out a shiney nickel, a weeks pay,

Picked up the icecream bucket and move out of the shop,

My eyes stop at a sight ,A small little girl as old as my daughter,

With a her sunken deep blue eyes,frail and pale skin,with a squeky voice she broke, 'food for hungry Mr.,haven't had no bread since Monday!'

The november frost hit me hard, shiver went through my spine,

I digged deep in my pocket, to search for a dime,

I had shelled the last penny for the delightyful Sunday cream,

I just lowered the bucket stroked her frosty blonde hair,

'Thank you Mr. I am Rochelle!', that weekend my family just had soup and bread for supper!,

With a content of saving a life putting a smile !