I put on my shoes, I'm ready to clime. 
But as I start walking I see a dime.

Binding I pick it up out of the grime.
I think to myself, Look, just a dime.
I put it in my pocket and start to clime.
I must have been walking along for some time.
When it it started to pore, birds wheal and whine.
I walk along not angry at all and feeling just fine.
All at once an old lady beckoning me to her side.
Kindly she asked. "Any money to spare? I need a ride." 
No. I started to say, then I remember the start of my clime.
Yes. But it's only a dime. 
I handed her my only dime.

She took it gladly, then put her hand in mine.
"Thank you dear, it'll do just fine."
Then she told me a story of such a time. 
Of Battle and war not as peaceful as mine.
Then told of her family, she needed that dime,
to get back to them, she hoped they were fine.
Though she doesn't know it quite yet, they are. And that is the end of my rime.