The Poor Old Man

I was walking down the street
As I saw a poor old man.
He was hardly skin and bones,
It seemed like dying was his plan

So I asked him as he lay
How he could live this gruesome life.
Gruesome? Laughed the man,
I’ve a house, three kids, a wife.

He shook his head and laughed at me,
Faint dimples on each cheek,
Held on to his to-go cup,
His paycheck of the week.

I looked at him in disbelief.
He laughed at me once more.
“Sir, why do you laugh so much?”
“Miss, crying is a bore.”

“Sir, you are a lovely man.”
“Well thank you darling girl.
Now some advice from poor old me;
Live your life and see the world.”

Imagination like a child,
This wise and poor, old man.
It seems I was mistaken
Because living was his plan.

-M.