Sonnet 27 – that homeless man
A filthy flannel shirt and mismatched shoes.
His teeth were mostly stubs ‘neath ill-kempt hair.
When turned at his hello, I saw a bruise.
His visage? It changed from bare to scared.
“I’m hungry’s” what he said, “Please help me, sir?”
I held my dinner ends inside a box.
His words were hard to hear, they were drunk-slurred,
I slowed my walk, I listened, as he talked.
“I’ve had a rough time, sir, you look kind fair.
Maybe help a fellow out, lend a hand?
A couple bucks would be good, kin ya share?
My life, it didn’t turn out like I’d planned.”
I gave the man my food, and then, a ten.
He nodded, smiled deeply, “Thanks, my friend.”
—June 2019
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