The panhandler
Excuse me sir, can you spare a nickel or perhaps a dime?
I promise not to use it to buy any liquor or any wine.
I know that I smell bad and pardon me for being in your way,
but if I don’t get something to eat, not long I’ll stay.
I once had a job like you
and a car
and a home
but I’ll never forget that dreadful day when I left the house without my phone.
They tried all day to reach me but to no avail.
They say the girl was texting when her car jumped the median
and went head on into my wife Gloria and my daughter Gayle.
In an instant they were both forever gone
and since then, I’ve never been able to move on.
I had what they called a nervous breakdown and when I got out
I’d lost my home,
My car,
and my job,
So here I stand and beg because it’s not my nature to rob.
I hope one day to get my mind right and get back on my feet.
I’m tired of eating out of garbage cans and living on the street.
So, the next time you pass me, and decide to judge me too,
Just remember, what happened to me, could also happen to you.
©Edwin Deloatch
Poetry