The Wanderers

The Wanderers The Wanderers wear many faces, They may come from nothing and other dark places; With surviving skills amazing to see; While we, untested, cry over burned fricasee. There was old Annie in the food pantry Which had a clothes closet, too, for the poor; She came every 3 months, didn't pick for sizes, Sold what she got for whatever, a dime or more. There was Jenny who lost her job, was evicted, Broke her glasses all in a week's succession; For pride or poverty she hit the streets, Fell in with a man for "love's" protection. That pantry had a box full of glasses, She screamed when she found a fair fit; "I can see! I can work! she jumped and cried; On her way to a new start for the hope of it. One more was the lady up the street; Whose home was a "for sale" car; Left to wander in the daytime; Where is she now - most likely afar. But for the grace of God, go I, For I've made judgments that were poor at best; God bless those wandering who are freezing tonight; For they share our Savior's plight, a stone to rest his head.