Little girl

As I waited outside grand central station,

a pretty little girl smiled at me,

walking with her mother.

couldn’t have been older

than nine.

blond hair, red jacket;

big blue eyes.

I smiled back.

it felt cruel not to—

turning down a child

whose intentions:

so innocent and pure—

she was pleased by my

cigarette stained grin,

she turned and smiled back wider,

I laughed and smiled back

equally as wide.

again, her head darted back—

I smiled again,

her mother had no idea.

I could feel the little girl

looking at me still…

10 yards away,

but I kept my head down.

I could not play this game

with a child

any longer.

when I picked my head up,

I could still see her little red jacket.

I smiled as she walked away,

she never turned back.

Manhattan, April 2017

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