Bound For Prosperity
He was a very handsome man,
not filthy, unshaven or ashamed...
once he held a cardboard that said,
" Help me with whatever you can! "
Yesterday around the corner, he held out an empty cup of coffee
without saying a word, but his sunken eyes of beggar
had no strength to remind others of his unfair destiny...
eyes that told a sad story to friends frequenting the local bar.
He told everyone sipping a drink that he was forced to beg for bread
when his bad health became the curse of Hell,
then he lost his beautiful wife and children...the ones he happily held
to his hilarious heart when everything went well.
" I will rise from the ashes! " he solemnly promised himself,
" But in the meantime, that cup will get me the money to survive...
some folks will give me dirty looks, walk away and laugh:
who wouldn't give me a quarter or a dollar to keep me alive?
At night he slept in a shelter down the busy block,
and he always carried a pain-killer to relief his headache...
he wore a wooden shining cross around his droopy neck
and kissed it twice when money dropped in his cup.
Today he looked totally different: well-groomed, wearing suit and tie;
he greeted me as I tried to hand him ten dollars for a chicken pot pie,
" Thanks, buddy for your kindness, I no longer need your money...
the Lord has finally healed me: I am bound for prosperity! "
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2011
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