In summer sneakered feet,
with rosy chilly cheeks,
he sloshed along on Congress Street
until he reached the shop where he would meet
a bank of blue-gray slush that seeped
beneath his high-top canvas shoes
and soaked his summer
stocking feet.

With brightly shining eyes
he found the window at the store
that he had seen so many times before,
with quiet longing sighs.

And when he opened wide the door
he wiped his nose
and stomped his feet
to shake the frozen slush
and water from his toes.

"Close the door!"
An angry voice called out
as if to say
" I am concerned
with only those who pay."

Undaunted by the tone of voice,
He wiped his mitten on his chin
and stepped inside
to see the world within.

Gold and silver rings
lined themselves in rows
beneath a shiny counter glass
with tiny Christmas bows,

and then the guardian of the store
and the owner of the voice
struck at him once more.
"We don't sell games or toys."
"You want the store next door."
"It's a store for little boys."

"I want to get my mother's ring"
was his soft but strong reply
while placing all his money on the counter.
"It's all I want to buy."

"I have the money
for that one there;
the one out front... the window ring...
the one marked ten.
It's for my mom on Christmas.
I'll give it to her then."

Stopping further explanations,
the angry voice spoke out again,
"Oh it isn't ten" it said. It's ten times ten.

"Oh... it's a hundred then,"
the small intruder said in a quiet,
trailing voice while picking up
his bills and change.

"A zero is now missing, faded by the sun,"
the unseen voice went on,
while moving out of range.

And turning to the window,
where his selection lie so near,
the summer sneakered boy
with rosy chilly cheeks,
and money in his hand,
stopped and stammered
in a voice quite soft, yet clear,
"I'll have to come again....
next year."