I came upon an old man,
A homeless, wretched soul.
He looked so sad and helpless,
In his hands, he held a bowl.
He was propped against the building,
So, his weakness would not show.
He saw the world through glasses,
With hair as white as snow.
I heard my father whisper,
As my eyes filled with tears,
“One need much more than money,
One needs his loved ones near.”
My father loved his family,
Does this old one feel the same?
With my father’s soul beside me
I asked the old one’s name.
His name, he said with feeling,
Was lost with all he owned.
A thief assumed his identity,
Then, all he had was blown.
His wife died in December,
The vulture, then closed in,
Pounced while he was grieving,
Then, his life changed again.
I gathered the frail body to me,
Spoke kindly, acknowledged his need,
A home and a heart full of loving,
My family would plant the seeds.
Love is the first to be planted,
Followed by trust in their care.
My father’s spirit surrounds us,
His example taught us to share.
The old one lost all his pallor,
With love and trust he gained
More than he ever hoped for,
Another family, who gave him a name.
Grandpa, we decided to dub him
As we fought for all he had lost.
As he won the last legal battle,
His life was the price that it cost.
The old one wanted cremation.
My mother did not and she prayed.
Next thing we knew came a lawyer,
And the Last Will and Testament played.
My mother, for once, became speechless,
And I drew in no better air.
Grandpa was there in the picture,
Leaving us undisputed heirs.