Pocket Change
What would you change if you knew
What your handful of change could do?
A pocket of pennies in the hands of another
A meal for a baby and its mother
What if you smiled at the man
Who waits and stands,
Rooted to the concrete curb,
While the world passes, unperturbed?
What if you treated him like a person?
Don’t turn away when you could determine
Whether he survives the winter cold,
Whether his little girl lives to be old.
Remember that no one would choose
To live in the midst of dirt and refuse.
Your handful of nickels and dimes
Clinks and rings, jingles and chimes
It means nothing to you,
But it’ll help him squeak through.
What would you change if you knew
What your handful of change could do?