Is it too late?

Bonnie Briggs (s248_1132@hotmail.com)
Tue, 13 Jan 1998 09:35:34 PST 

Bonnie Briggs
Hi gang,
  It looks like I started a whole new thread with my note about my 
e-mail anniversary. Oh well, it's fun to read. 
  I know it's too late for a Christmas poem, but I couldn't find this 
until today. So, I hope you will bear with me. I wanted to share this at 
Christmas time. This is a poem I wrote a few years ago. It is based on 
the Christmas song, "Pretty Paper". This is a fictional situation, but 
I'm sure it happens. This type of poem is called a story poem. Hope you 
like it.


All alone he sat, on the sidewalk cold,
Ragged coat, beaten hat, stooped over, looking old.

He asked for spare change. For a coffee and a smoke. 
Of all the people walking by, who thought him just a joke. 

He was just another homeless guy, another bum on the street.
On the street, he'll probably die, right at the Christmas shoppers' 
feet.

It's the time of good will to men, when, for all, we're supposed to 
care. We hear that time and time again. Why then was he still there? On 
the dirty side of town? Where does this man go? On his sodden way down? 

Nobody knows about his past. Nobody knows his sad story. Why has he gone 
down so fast? All the way to ruin from glory. 

I came upon him on the sidewalk, and put five dollars in his hat. 
Right about then, we began to talk, I joined him where he sat. 

"Do you have a smoke?" he asked as I sat down. 
Soon he was enjoying his smoke, there on the dirty side of town. 

He told me the story of his life, about the trail of abuse and neglect. 
How his "died" whe he lost his wife, how his family he began to reject. 

He finally hit rock bottom. He had nowhere else to go. 
Where the booze had finally got him. What now? he didn't know. 

I said, "I know how you feel, helpless and alone." 
"You need a bed and a hot meal, and someplace to call home." 

"I'll send you to a good friend who will help you on your way."
"And the bus fare I will lend, you go and see him today."

"He runs the South-Side Mission, on the other side of town."
"You talk to him, he'll listen. Get him to show you around."

I gave him the change for the bus, and heartily shook his hand.  
I thought, "he's the same as one of us, throughout this great big land."

As I watched him go down the street, I wondered, "will he come back? 
Will we ever again meet? on the better side of the tracks?"

I realized it was getting late. I had to get to a Christmas party. I 
hurried to make my appoints date, for eggnog and turkey hearty. 

As I hurried on through the snow, I wondered to myself,
"where does all our compassion go? Is it put upon the shelf?"

At this Christmas time of year, 
Let us think of those who are with us all the year.

The homeless, the hungry, the destitute, who live on our streets each 
day, Let us show them a better route, where they can find their way.

It's Christmas time, do you care? Will you help another one?
Come on people, show you care. Do what the Master would have done. 

Just think, if that was you, sitting on the sidewalk cold. Wouldn't you 
want some help too? Or would you rather die in the cold?


                              -30-



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