Destitute

                

        Destitute

They pass me. heads bowed low.

Shuffle along. no place to go.

Looking out for scattered coins

For them no salmon or sirloins.

A lonely life they now must spend

Can we even comprehend 

From our cosy warm abode

Pass them by, cross the road.

Stop a moment. Have a think.

Are we all not on that brink

But for good fortune we could share

That cardboard box that’s lying there.

So take a minute stop a while

It doesn’t cost to chat and smile

For life’s too short to just ignore

Just like the people gone before.
    ©J.Poet7

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