We passed him along Clark Street,
The family out for an evening treat.
He sat huddled against a wall
Bracing against the chill of fall.
In a ragged suit, with one lame foot,
He was covered in grime and soot.
When I paused to look, eyes fixed,
My stomach began to twitch.
“Hey, what’s wrong with that man?
The sign says, ‘I need a hand.’”
“Now, don’t you get too near.
It’s nothing to worry about, dear.”
“But, it’s damp and cold today.
We can’t just walk away!”
“Okay, Kenny here take a dime.
But, quick, we’ve got little time.”
As I rushed back, coin in hand,
A smile broke out on the man.
Not enough, and only a start,
This enkindled a very young heart.
© 1972, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved. (1960)
