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May 2016
On a cold winter day you could of found him here
Standing on the corner of 44th and Vine holding out his cup to anyone that comes near

"Brother can you spare a dime"
Most rush by they don't have time
No time to care about their fellow human
"He'll spend it on alcohol" most that paid attention was assuming

But what he really wanted was just enough
That even though he was looking gruff
He could go into the dinner and buy a cup
Sit awail and simply warm up
Maybe even dream a bit
Of how his younger years where spent

For at one time he was a son, a brother
Long ago his siblings moved, and alone he had buried his mother
At one time he was a husband, a Dad
But they left him all alone they were all he had

The fall had been slow
Inch by inch he had slowly let go
Now he finds himself ***** and haggard
Knowing that nothing at all mattered

His face is weather worn and wrinkled, a permanent frown
A battered, worn thin sock cap is his crown

All he had in life was on his back to help keep out the cold
Of the frezzing December snow that bitterly did blow
By his side a little dog, his one and only companion
In that dogs eye's he was a champion

For any food he managed to scrounge
He always feed that mutt first, any thing he found
That's the way you would treat your best friend
He knew that wonderful dog would stay with him till the end

After hours of standing in the bitter wind he finally gave up
There was not even a penny, empty was his cup
No one had taken pity
He was bone tired and weary

So he simply faded into the darkness of the night
Crawled into his cardboard box pulled, up his tattered thin blanket, held his little dog tight
Snuggled close togeather the frezzing cold the two togeather tried to fight
The kind cop that always checked on him, found them both there in the morning light

The night time temperature had been to brutal
The *** and his dog's attempt to stay warm had been futile
The cop made sure they were buried togeather
So they would always have each other forever

They lay there in the paupers grave
To bad the human race was to busy to care, he was not a nobody, he could of been saved!!
Pauline Morris
Written by
Pauline Morris  51/F/Southern Illinois
(51/F/Southern Illinois)   
570
   --- and Keith Wilson
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