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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=571969" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Shoe Shine Boy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=571969" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Chicago train station, midst their porcelain tunnels<br>You would hear this young voice cry.<br>' Shine! ', 'Fifty cents! '<br>As daily commuters rushing home would pass on by.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=571969" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Sitting on a shoeshine box<br>In the cold dim of this porcelain maize.<br>While down a bit, was a man who would sit<br>and on his torn violin, some old time tunes he'd play.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=571969" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">These sounds are as I remember them<br>of an era long now passed.<br>While at that time, I thought these days <br>cries of a shoe shine boy<br>and violin old time music would last. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=571969" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">How naive was I then, to have ever thought this way<br>for all eventually will fade from view.<br>I shall always remember, the cries of the shoe shine boy<br>and the violins oldtime songs, of the Chicago that I knew.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Linda+Winchell">Linda Winchell</a></strong></div>

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