Dining Out

He needed help to get inside And settle in a chair. He didn’t need a menu – Seems he’d often eaten there. His wheelchair (the electric kind) Was waiting on the street. He didn’t seem concerned to leave it While he’d drink and eat. Our check arrived, we paid the bill And bid our friends good night. I thought about the man inside Who made it there in spite Of all the obstacles he had To navigate from home. The least that I could do is pay Him homage in this poem.