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The Man
October 21, 2016
I see a man in too big, torn up, ancient looking clothes.
I look.
I question.
I judge.
I view the man with almost black, dirt covered skin.
I whisper.
I laugh.
I stare.
I look at the man with a long, silver, greasy beard.
I think.
I know.
I did something wrong.
I think of the man that hopes for a dime, nickel, or even a penny.
I walk to the store.
I buy the man a lunch.
I feel strong.
I walk to the believably generous, unlucky man.
I give.
I smile.
He smiles.
© Cody T., Krum, TX
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