Homeless
homeless man on the street
puts his hand out and says
excuse me miss?
miss? she turns and looks at him
"what" she snaps at him
he says, never mind mam
as she walks away the
man begins to cry
gips his stomach and
looks to the sky
whipes his face
and trys again
from my bench i
get up to cross the street
i walk over to the man
and give him the money
in my pocket, he puts it in his pan
he looks up at me
begins to speak
but i stop him, there is no
need to thank me, i
say. I'm only doing the
right thing mister.
after all if i were
you and your were
me, i would hope
that someone would
do the same for
me,
we all should.
Poetry by montana
Read 595 times
Written on 2011-09-22 at 21:14
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by montanaLatest textsYou keep me aliveLonger than my reach Stumbling through the weeds Your Pieces All I am My favoritesWalking on WaterDreaming is for Lovers |
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