The Street Man
By Freeway
At eventide his lungs grew cold while staggering in rags on icy streets. The street man prayed--with faith he hoped he’d soon detect some scraps to eat. The street man loved the city's people he simply couldn't manage money While squandering cash between hiccups he'd ask, "D'ya like this present, honey?" The street man’s gaiety ended when his dollars and good sense ceased So frightened was the street man that he heightened his shots in drinks. The street man never stopped wandering while nodding at the city's people. Christmas Day he lay frozen in snow downtown under the church steeple. The town folk had a service sharing their love for this sweet man Though he drifted beyond The Prodigal Son with love and grace God accepted His hand. Written November 15th, 2001 © on Nov 15 2001 04:08 AM PST 10 • 0 • 13
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"At eventide his lungs grew cold ..."