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Every day you see him on the streets His lifes possessions in his cart You look at him and turn away Is that the way you want to start? He walks around the streets all day HIs world is only where he walks But, when he gets too close to you You find that you're the one who balks He's never done no harm to you In fact your lives may be the same He may just feel the same for you And you're the one who should feel shame His life is in that shopping cart It's full of years of where he's been He may not have a home like you He may not have a next of kin He may live like this willingly Though you look at him as mad You see, he's not the issue here It's you and that's what's sad He's searching for a better life Or is he...no one knows For no one takes the time to see Just where this poor soul goes He doesn't want your pity But a hand up would be kind A hand out he's not looking for But they're so hard to find He lived up in the ivory towers With a family, working hard Now he lives among the forgotten folks With his boots re-soled with cards You can ask him if he needs a hand But you wouldn't dare to speak Because that would put you near him And that's not ground you seek Is he harmless, well you just don't know Is he mad or lost his way Is he loony, well that's doubtful He found a cart to push this way His life is in the boxes And the bags inside the cart Next time you see him, don't avoid him Show him just a little heart I knew a man, this independent He showered at a self serve bar While he cleaned, I'd leave a coffee And then I'd attend to the next car He always smiled as he was leaving A whistle always on his lips You never knew where he was headed As he left to go out on his trips Three times a week, just like clockwork He would show up just to wash Three times a week I'd leave him coffee And each time he'd leave feeling posh You see him daily in your travels He's the king of where he's been So if you see him while you're walking Give a smile, don't look so mean For, he's the one who has no problems Maybe he has got it right It may not work for you or me though But it works for him tonight Each day you see him with his old cart But you turn away from view Handicapped...he isn't..but just maybe The handicapped one here is you..
0
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 12:04 PM UTC
Street Walking Man - (The Street - poem 7)
Every day you see him on the streets His lifes possessions in his cart You look at him and turn away Is that the way you want to start? He walks around the streets all day HIs world is only where he walks But, when he gets too close to you You find that you're the one who balks He's never done no harm to you In fact your lives may be the same He may just feel the same for you And you're the one who should feel shame His life is in that shopping cart It's full of years of where he's been He may not have a home like you He may not have a next of kin He may live like this willingly Though you look at him as mad You see, he's not the issue here It's you and that's what's sad He's searching for a better life Or is he...no one knows For no one takes the time to see Just where this poor soul goes He doesn't want your pity But a hand up would be kind A hand out he's not looking for But they're so hard to find He lived up in the ivory towers With a family, working hard Now he lives among the forgotten folks With his boots re-soled with cards You can ask him if he needs a hand But you wouldn't dare to speak Because that would put you near him And that's not ground you seek Is he harmless, well you just don't know Is he mad or lost his way Is he loony, well that's doubtful He found a cart to push this way His life is in the boxes And the bags inside the cart Next time you see him, don't avoid him Show him just a little heart I knew a man, this independent He showered at a self serve bar While he cleaned, I'd leave a coffee And then I'd attend to the next car He always smiled as he was leaving A whistle always on his lips You never knew where he was headed As he left to go out on his trips Three times a week, just like clockwork He would show up just to wash Three times a week I'd leave him coffee And each time he'd leave feeling posh You see him daily in your travels He's the king of where he's been So if you see him while you're walking Give a smile, don't look so mean For, he's the one who has no problems Maybe he has got it right It may not work for you or me though But it works for him tonight Each day you see him with his old cart But you turn away from view Handicapped...he isn't..but just maybe The handicapped one here is you..
roger-turner
Written by
Canadian
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 12:04 PM UTC
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