A Path Chosen
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In my city, downtown are many homeless,
wandering the busy streets so aimless;
one day, I saw my own brother begging,
my brother's face held such a bleakness.
I crossed the street my mind so confused,
my brother homeless- oh my mind refused;
but my reality was in an outstretched hand,
I wept- how can I help my brother, I mused.
I had to find him help- get him off the street,
a place to live and good food each day to eat;
that started me on a twisting journey,
with help my brother is no longer downbeat.
Since then, this girl has been on a mission,
I talk to the homeless and hope a day brighten;
with a partner, we pass out coffee and blankets,
we give sandwiches and quickly they are eaten.
Two days a month I help at a food bank- local,
and often at a clothing depot I help when able;
I always keep some change in my pocket,
some days at the animal shelter- cats I cuddle.
I suppose you could call me a good samaritan,
but guess what- helping people is a lot of fun;
every homeless person is some mother's baby,
it seems that helping is a path I have chosen.
__________________________
November 25, 2017
Poetry/Rubaiyat/A Path Chosen
Copyright Protected, ID 17 9660-73-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym
Written for the contest, The Good Samaritan
sponsor, Craig Hawkins
Fourth Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2017
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