Poetry

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Who are we to judge the man who sits along the street?
Some of us do and some of us don’t, keep our thoughts discreet.
Are we not all the total sum of our painful yesterdays?
Do all that do not fit our mold become useless castaways?
Some of us are fortunate and some of us are not.
Perhaps our pain has faded away in memories we forgot.
But, what about those who relive their pain each and every day?
That poison in their hopeless minds leads to their decay.
Should not our loving spirits temper our critical mind.
Then, perhaps God’s loving grace will fall upon mankind.

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