My Foolish Heart

Ever since I was a teen, I dreamed of seeing the land of Mardi Gras. Visiting the Big Easy had become stuck deep inside my craw. I wanted to see the French Quarter, a mystical place of make believe, so, we purchased our airline tickets south and then took our leave. I was excited for another vacation, with my wife and youngest son. But my view on life would change, by the time this trip was done. We took a city tour in a carriage ride. A unique way to see the sites. We heard the local cuisine was famous, so we decided to try a few bites. There were entertainers and musicians who rhythmically pulled out all the stops. We saw many restaurants and bars and on Royal Street some antique shops. Bourbon street was next, so we took a right at the corner and began to walk. On the sidewalk many homeless slept, and tourists who stopped to gawk. I have seen the homeless before, but from my car as I safely drove by. Walking next to them while they just sat there, was a sight that made me cry. There were no public restrooms. You can’t stay clean without water and soap. All I could smell was the scent of urine, vomit, alcohol and dope. What can I do to help? Can I uplift a life that has fallen apart? Could one person make a difference, or is this a thought of my foolish heart? I’m writing this for a contest, and if I win there is a cash prize I will get. Instead of mailing me a check, please go out and hand it to a homeless vet. 4/2/22 My Foolish Heart Poetry Contest Sponsor: L Milton Hankins