There lived a man on the corner,
he was old and grey.
I smiled as I walked
past his box every day,

but he was no drunk!
Not a cigarette in his beard.
His hand soft as most rocks—
unable to be feared.

I offered him a home,
a roof and a treat
but he kindly declined—
firmly planted in seat.

I asked him one morning—
I had nowhere to be—
I asked him “why be hungry
when you can eat for free?”

He smiled to me,
teeth on perfect shelves—
He said “to prove I will always
be able to do it myself.”

He said to me
“kid, handouts can please
but when the weather gets warm,
watch how they flee”

“Wanna know why I’m here?
I could’ve built a house alone.
Now I’m too old to chop the wood,
so not on my own...

I would never live there—
not even a day.
If I didnt earn it,
I could never stay”

He laughed to himself,
hearty chuckle turned cough,
“be tough as hell, kid.
Kindness makes you soft.”