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Poem


…There, but for the grace of God go I…
Is a thought I oft used to think
As I cast a hasty, judgmental eye
Roundabout the coffee shop
And o’er the brim of my morning drink

…I used to judge those so-called ‘sorry souls
And ascribe to them sad histories
In blissful ignorance that 
Some were likely looking back
And doing the same to me

…Yet with a superior sense of satisfaction
Would I sip my McDonald’s morning brew
Until some hapless soul would draw my attraction
Ah yes…this sorry soul will do

…I would focus in and build upon
My narrative about this sorry soul
Whose life seemed sad and almost gone
Down into life’s rabbit hole

…Oh the trials and ordeals
That this man must daily feel
The sting of outrageous misfortune
That Fate of late has shared with him
More than his fair portion

…Alas my coffee is quaffed
My imaginative narrative done
I’ll likely see this man (my star) no more
And I wonder who the morrow’s 
Protagonist will be
As I walk out through the door

…Tomorrow will dawn a brand new day
I’ll sip my Senior brew and sigh
Select a new star for my newest play
(I think I shall title this one like all the others)
…“There but for the grace of God go I…”


…

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