The Homeless Man (Old~Bench~Sleeping) By Cynthia Jones , www.PoetryPoem.com/poetryandshortstories10 Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
It's minus thirty-five outside
that is with the wind chill,
there's an old man at the park
who is feeling rather ill.
He sits upon a park bench
as he has nowhere to go,
he needs somewhere to lay his head
he gets up, wanders aimlessly to and fro.
He is somewhat confused
too cold outside to think straight,
the beds at the YMCA are full
at times like this, there's no break.
The moon shines in the sky above
as the night grows colder and grim,
he knocks on the door at the YMCA
they have no more room in there for him.
He walks back to the park
sits upon the bench and starts weeping,
he should be in a place that's warm
instead of being out in the cold sleeping.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Jan.3/2014
It's minus 35 outside tonight, with the wind chill factor. Those less fortunate than us, have it a lot harder than we do. We should all keep in mind, that it could be one of us stuck out in the cold, homeless, with nowhere to go and having nowhere to sleep.
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