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quietwrite — The Rain Collector
Published: 2009-07-28 21:53:16 +0000 UTC; Views: 57; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 2
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Description
When it rains,He comes out.
Palm outstretched
Politely asking for any alms he can receive
Patiently he waits
Under heavy droplets
That soak his clothes and sting his skin
With their frigid cold demeanor.
But still he waits
Still he waits.
“Please sir/madam,
I am hungry
I am cold
Won’t you help
A poor old soul?”
Most who pass say
“buzz off/get a job/a life”
But still he waits
Waits on that kind spirit
Who will drop a dime in his hand
Still he waits.
“Please miss
I am without food
I am without shelter
Could you spare a dollar
So that I may have something to eat?
Won’t you help
A poor old soul?”
She reaches into her bag
And hands him her lunch
A sandwich
A thermos of warm soup
And an apple
“Eat,”
She says.
“eat all of it,
You need it more than I do
You poor, dear man.”
The warmth of the soup
Radiates from his throat
And warms him head to toe
He smiles a grateful smile
And she’s off.
When it rains
He comes out
Palm outstretched
Politely asking for any alms he can receive.
Only this time, he hopes someone will not just feed him
But help him get back on his feet.
