A simple penny possessed a secret magic here,

Allowing her to be a full-time visitor

To a child's shrine,

Loaded to the brim

With a splash of every color sent down from the rainbow.

The gumball machine sat,

Never alone,

Hidden in the corner.



"Please Grandpa, once more!" she begged.

Gently lifted onto the moving ladder,

Whizzing across this

Utopian atmosphere,

Colored paint cans lining the wall

Zipping past every tiny eyelash.



Stacked on top of the hose cart

Like a princess on her horse-drawn carriage.

Checking three times daily

To be sure the sample doorbells were still efficient.

Growing exceedingly dizzy,

Pigtails bopping up and down

To the music of the paint mixer.



To most adults it was only

A place to purchase everyday necessities.

But to this miniature adult,

To this child,

Boblak's hardware was a place

Where in the well-hidden corner,

You could buy a colored dream

For only a penny

And savor it for years to come.