Poetry

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Leaning toward an open fire,

a poor man warmed his hands.

He’d traveled on so many paths—

not one within his plans.



His heart was heavy—weighted down—

‘twas lost and all alone.

His tattered clothes had gathered dust

from places where he’d roamed.



This poor man lived from day to day

without a decent meal,

and many nights he’d go to sleep

with hunger pangs so real.



There was no one to share his life,

his thoughts, his words, his cares.

Some passersby just shook their heads,

and some would stop and stare.



Until one day a little girl

had stopped beside this man.

She carried in her hands a meal,

along with an afghan.



She offered him her tiny meal,

and with a great big smile,

she wrapped her blanket ‘round his arms

and sat with him a while.



The mother of this little girl

had joined them by the fire.

She offered him a cup of tea

and then she did inquire . . .



She asked this lonely, ragged man

just what his name might be.

He looked at her with saddened eyes

and she could clearly see . . .



The tears that fell and stained his face—

the tears held back for years—

were then released from deep within

along with all his fears. . .



This man was overwhelmed with joy

that someone took the time

to look at him without disdain—

someone who was so kind . . .



God sent this mother and her child

to help this broken man.

Equipped with love and tenderness,

they helped fulfill God’s Plan.



by Kristine Stanton ©2023

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