The outstretched hand
That simply asks
For pennies thrown its way.
The voice of scorn,
"I've nothing,
I've got none for you today."
The dirt,
The smell,
The shuffling feet,
The lack of freedom
On the street,
Among the silent bustling
Of the office worker beat.
Who are the real beggars here?
We really need to ask!
Are Bay and Wall Street's sources
Spread to face the real task?
To feed the hungry,
Clothe the poor,
To fill the outstretched hand with more
Than just a passing glance?
About 2000 years ago
Christ did much more for me.
His outstretched hands
Were nailed in place
So beggars we would never be.