Homeless

The man

The clothes

The shopping cart

How lucky I am with these clothes, this car,

this roof.

Dark, dim, stormy day,

Black, blue, cold, and gray

Sadness and sorrow washed away,

Pat-pat, Pit-pat, Roar.

Focus on him,

He still manages a grin.

Fresh mud in matted hair,

My mind says to leave as the smell of alcohol

crosses my nose.

My heart says help him though I’m forced into my car, with

mind ahead of heart.

Sad heart wrenching,

I start to cry and pull out with tears in my eyes.

Pit-pat, Pit-pat, Roar.

Poem by TM 2004