A young boy,
Not yet nine,
Was walking along,
Dressed quite fine.


His shoes so shiny,
His Polo so clean,
A boy not whiny,
A boy not mean.

A man in front,
With a great stride,
Dropped a bill,
Walking on with pride.

The boy, alert,
Attested this loss.
He stumbled, faltered,
He remained quite cross.

Whatever to do,
The boy not knew.
Suspended in choice,
A choice so few.

The bill in hand,
The young boy ran.
Chasing right after,
This silly old man.

Speaking no words,
The bill slipped in.
The boy turned around,
With a satisfied grin.

A young boy,
Not yet nine,
Was walking along,
Dressed quite fine.

-K.T.S.