by Poetry 99
© 2000 Dorothy E. Scott, all rights reserved
Earl was a homeless man on the
street.
The hard life had crippled him, never caused his defeat.
Each day he would deliver
newspapers to the area stands, carrying them without complaint.
He would offer his services to sweep a floor, carry out trash, or
even paint.
No weather could deter his daily
travels, though feeble his step.
Nothing hindered his caring, often with lack of pep.
Christmas he was quick to offer to
carry packages, refusing money, often in snow and rain.
His three wheeler was hard to handle, always fixing its slipping
chain.
The blue bicycle was paint-cracked
and his seat was torn.
Jagged metal ripped the seat of his pants, many patches was
adorn.
The area businessmen got together,
buying a new shiny blue three-wheeler bicycle with a motor too.
It had a light, basket, and blinkers even a loud shrill horn tooting
ever so true.
Other presents included new
clothes, watch, a citizen donated a small house he had up for
sale.
Earl loved all his presents, citizens now hear his approach, his horn
beeps a familiar tale.