The sparkle of the sheer red
Filled into his eyes
His pupils widened
Arms raised
In elation
Pure euphoria
The little toy fire truck
Was always by his side
He may have never gone to summer camp
Nor on vacation
Yet the little luxury he possessed
Was the fire truck
His feet would take their stance
His arms strained back
And off he would go
With the toy truck in hand
Sprinting across the small apartment
That held seven people
Within its walls
Each day with the darkness
Of poverty crept in the small house
Yet the fire truck vanquished the dark
One day the little boy received an invitation
To a birthday party
The boy filled with glee and went to his mother
She said he may go
The boy lit up
But on one condition
You must give your toy truck as a present
He has never felt the sharp sting of poverty
Until now
He wept
And cried
But reluctantly handed over
His sole amusement
His only toy
Years past
And the boy grew
He married
Then remarried
Had children
And became a successful businessman
His house was comfortable
And he never went with worry
Yet he always told the story
Of his little red fire truck
That as a young boy
Was taken away
His eyes glaze over with remorse
As the young boy surfaces
I knew then
That you could have all your desires
And yet never be satisfied
I gave my dad a hug
And sigh
His childhood was taken
Yet he lived his life
Always with a sparkle of memory of his
Little red fire truck