Empty Mouth

The plastic jar is cloudy, stained,

with fingerprints and grime.

My gaze, it lingers, unrestrained,

observing passing time.

Just tarnished pennies, dull and small,

one crumpled dollar, creased.

The barista sighs, stands up so tall,

her silent hope unleased.

A hand-scrawled 'Thank You,' peeling slow,

a silent, hungry plea.

I drop my change, a meager show,

for her, and maybe me.