I was sick today:[

So I wrote a poem. [:

The benumbing, bitter, one-dog night
brought chills to even those inviolable at home,
adjacent to their high-class fire places and heaters.
But when you’ve no where to live or go,
You have got to stay out side
Letting the brisk air nip at you after hours.
The homeless, the wandering.
I came across one of these brave souls.
Although bundled on the floor, dressed in rag,
his aura gave off no fear or anxiety.
His big brown eyes were filled with hope.
I felt my heart begin to melt at the mere sight.
He didn’t ask for money.
No, he was much to dignified to do that.
Once our eyes met, I smiled.
He looked taken aback at first,
obviously he wasn’t used to any sort of acknowledgement,
But then he politely smiled, and tipped his hat.
That day hadn’t been the best day for me,
But seeing this poor man made me feel self-indulgent.
The fellow noticed how unhappy I looked.
He stood up and walked over to me.
And handed me a rose.
A rose he’d been selling to afford a meal or shelter.
“You have a nice night, ma’am.”
And then he walked away.