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A BEGGAR
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A YOUNG POET Walking down a dusty road,
At the end of day.
Looking at a beggar,
Fallen by the way.
His clothes worn and
tattered,
He looked very small.
Somehow feeling his great-
ness,
Once he had stood so tall.
With arms out stretched,
He beckoned me, linger
awhile.
Stooping to wipe away a
tear,
He began to smile
As I arose in tones so low,
He softly said to me,
Today I've found a friend,
Someday I'll repay, you
see.
As you travel through this
life,
If you should ever fall,
I'll hear your voice, I'll
answer when you call.
copyright heather burns
