The Beggar

Posted: September 9, 2012 in poetry

 

O what would I give for a kobo or two

An old blind beggar sang

He sat in the sand, a bell in his hand

And over and over it rang

 

Get out of my way, I am late today

Said a young man passing by

As he hurried on, he rounded a turn

And muttered a quick angry sigh

 

O what would I give to be full today

The old blind beggar prayed

He stood by his cart, and hovered his hat

His clothing was tattered and frayed

 

I wish I could give, but I have to leave

A pretty young woman thought

She was in a car, her destination far

With her was a cute little tot

 

O what would I give for a place to sleep

The same old beggar cried

He leaned on a stall that bothered a wall

and pulled on his overgrown beard.

 

I can’t take you in, I don’t know where you’ve been

An affluent woman was irked

Yet it bothered her soul, so she tossed in his bowl

A crumpled old note as she sniffed

 

O what would I give, for something to drink

He held out an empty milk tin

Though rusty with dirt, he wiped with his shirt

The cup he had pulled from a bin

 

That funny old man is holding a can

A little girl pointed him out

Come now, leave him be, I don’t think he can see

her father was eager to shout

 

And so as he stood by a shed made of wood

The beggar was waiting to see

If someone could hear, Maybe someone would care

Decide what your answer will be.

 

 

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