He used to sell candy
On the streets of my hometown.
Diagnosed with Down's Syndrome,
Most people didn't want him around.
Some said he was crazy
And I guess I was too young to know.
But he always had time for
a kid and a dime for the show.
It was back in the fifties
When the S.S. payments were small.
There were months when Mama
Simply couldn't stretch them at all.
We might have gone hungry
But this old peddler liked us a lot.
He'd bring over beans
Or some fresh turnip greens for the pot.
When Ginny was a baby
And Shirley was going on three,
Poor old Mama had it hard
Clothing them and Henry and me.
But a peddler in rags
With holes in his shoes helped us out.
And he taught us what "Loving
Your Neighbor" was really about.
I'll never forget the day
That the old peddler died.
There were few at his funeral
And not very many there cried.
He was nobody special-
The type that just never fits in.
But he had made us his family
And we proudly claimed him as kin.
Praline, the town built no
Monuments in your memory, Praline.
But you sure left a mark
On the heart of this one human being.
I, too, am nobody special
But this one thing I just had to do.
You see, I write poetry
And this poem will immortalize you.
Pralines....Jelly Beans...
He used to sell candy on the
Streets of my hometown.
(c)Doris Jacobs-Covington
*In Memory of Garfield Prince Jr.
Better known as "Praline"
"He who has pity on the poor
lends to the Lord, and He
will pay back what he has given."
Proverbs 19:17
TRIPLES with EMMA |
|
|
