Homeless

Out shopping, I met a man,
Cross-legged on the floor,
Outside a clothes store,
He looked reasonably fed and generally well;
Possibly an angel,
A Christmas messenger.

Inside, I couldn’t concentrate,
His begging plate
Burned into my conscience
‘Till I couldn’t see
The new clothes in front of me.
I envisaged his dog on a cushion
And him on the cold floor –
Right there, outside the door.

He was destitute –
Playing Carols on a tin flute,
Begging for money.
Drawn to speak to him,
I offered a hot meal –
He asked for a sausage roll and a tea
Which humbled me.

He thanked me and told me
His luck had turned,
He was less concerned
Now he slept in a caravan.
His lowly accommodation
A salutary lesson,
A Christmas message
That less is more.

We wished each other ‘Merry Christmas’,
I carried on my way
Thinking of the food in my fridge,
The presents under the tree,
Waiting for me.
A Homeless Angel
Shook my complacency.

Copyright wordz2Go December 2015

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