Contributed by Marilyn Bennett
The bottom of the hill
Our Street comes to an end
A trail runs through the woods
A shortcut to the school
Our lot adjoins the woods
My gardens at it's edge
It's wet as wet can be
From runoff down the hill
But on a day in March
Trash joined my flower bed
That day the wind waxed fierce
Came whipping down our street
When finally things calmed down
I went out to the trail
Was shocked, amazed and jarred
At what that wind had wrought
Amid the sundry trash
A tiny grocery cart
All faded pink and blue
Was sitting there alone
A child could love this cart
Or did some time ago
Who cares that now it's gone?
It IS Just last year's toy
It rolled down to this place
Street ends and Trail begins
I'll let it sit and wait
Perhaps the child will come
Then April comes and goes
The kids walk by the cart
But no one claims this toy
It makes me really sad
I see a man and child
Come down the street to look
But he said do not touch
Who knows who touched it last?
We live in fear today
Of other people's things
And tell our three year olds
What toys they should not touch
But I just hope that soon
The child who lost this cart
Will see it sitting here
And push it proudly home
This cart all pink and blue
Is meant to give one joy
But here it sits alone
So very out of place
So sad to see it here
While no one mourns it's loss
Now May has come and gone
The snow has turned to slush
The little cart still waits
June comes and I might take
That little cart to place
Within my flower bed
I'd fill the basket full
With dirt and flower seeds
And watch them as they grow
To flowers pink and blue
Then will this little cart
Look happy in my yard
Because I took it home
And Gave It LOVE Again
