In youth, he searched, (as young men do)
For ease, for wealth, for fame;
But found life hard, and sometimes poor;
(Few people knew his name.)
But with each day, he shared a smile
With ALL he chanced to meet;
A chuckle for his dearest friend,
Or stranger on the street.
In middle-years, with calloused hands
No ease or wealth he'd found;
His name NOT spoken by the throng;
Unchanged, he never frowned,
Still, with each day, he shared a smile,
And tender words he said;
And anyone who came his way,
That soul, with kindness fed.
In later years he wasn't seen
By those who knew his beat;
The concrete walks were no more home
To aged and swollen feet;
But those of us who saw him smile,
And never heard him fuss,
Are richer far, for what he gave;
He gave HIMSELF to us.
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