Gelato! Gelato!

right after school, he ran to the
ice cream store and begged for a
piece of cake. They put him to
work, sweeping the cobblestones
in front, greeting elderly women
strolling by, their shopping bags
swinging at their sides, overfilled
with freshly baked bread, fresh
peaches and salad greens, cheeses,
perhaps a bottle of fine red wine.
“Gelato! Gelato!” he called out,
urging them to come inside
and buy the goods for which he
was working.
Finally, the proprietor called the
young lad, sat him down at
the worn counter.
“Buono, buono”, he muttered,
handing the boy his much awaited
piece of ice cream cake.