The Old Man
I answered the door with a frown on my face,
I couldn't be bothered, too busy in the rat race.
But answer it I did, and what did I find?
But a filthy old man, hands dirty, holding a sign.
'Can I do some work for you, ' he asked politely.
I don't need much, I only ask that you feed me.
I almost shut the door, going to brush him aside,
But I stopped; it was the sadness deep in his eyes.
I glimpsed his dog tags from a war way before my time,
A veteran, out on the streets, such a crime.
Right then and there I had a change of heart.
This old man needed help, and this would be a start.
I welcomed him in, sat down and took off my tie,
Poured us both a cup of coffee, not really knowing why.
The rat race would have to finish without me this day.
I had a more important job, helping an old man find his way.
'Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.' Hebrews 13: 2
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Werewolf in New Orleans by Rena Kay )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley