The Rich Man, Rose, the Beggar

Beggar: I was cut And now I bleed But on the street Am I in need? I am hungry I am cold I never did What I was told Rose: I have thorns. When I was born I wasn't told That they'd cause pain I am pretty? Yet you won’t Pick me I would like To feel your shame Rich Man: I am rich In high-rise living The cut I feel Is less forgiving The pills I take Prescription, fake Yet they are sold For heads that ache Beggar: Both my hands Outwardly turned For many months My ears had burned I switched them off The words they said Became a song Inside my head Rose: The snow, it fell And I could tell The plants around Soon would die But no, not I! I have thorns I the rose For you, that mourns Rich Man: I pulled the car Up to the curb The man I saw I’d not disturb For saw he slept And thus I wept Why had he chose A life like this Beggar: As he watched The last to guess Of how I lived And who was blessed He lay not on My hand a dime But single rose In death of mine Rose: I, the rose Will decompose On the chest Of this man He would move Yet thus would prove All the “cant’s” Would turn to “cans” Rich Man: My head is straight I’ll sleep tonight In warmth that I Did what was right The beggar not Have life he chose? Let winter tomb Be single rose! Beggar: I sold the rose Before it died To gentle man Whose berth was wide He looked on me As if a ghost And rang the door To call the host Rose: My death it seems Is not the matter But how I lived To make him fatter My petals fall The night goes on A rich man’s death Before the dawn Rich Man: Yes, I impressed So richly dressed Not one will ask For life I chose Before my eyes Last time will close I clutch my heart And crush the rose Written January 29th, 2002 © on Jan 28 2002 03:14 PM PST   0 • 10