ksna
"I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing." ~Socrates
peopleIt's been a few weeks and I haven't seen you, Doc.
I've been taking Lamar to work in the mornings, home and back at lunch, and in the evenings heading for the close of my day, and have yet to have seen you.
I'm starting to worry, as you've never been lost this long.
I tell myself that maybe you've just moved up north, or that you've found a place on the east side, but I know that life is not that easy.
I remember the day I pulled into the Furr's parking lot and met you for the first time. You had a smile on your face the entire 20 minutes we chatted in the shade of the bus stop at the lot entrance. You made silly, funny little jokes and acted as if it was the best day of your life. All was right in your world.
I'm smiling now, reflecting on the glisten of your old, worn eyes as I handed you the gallon of water, canned peaches, and Campbell's soup, thanking me profusely and with such warmth.
Such a kind old soul as yourself deserves so much more out of your retirement years. Someone who had fought for our country in WWII, surely earned a place in society besides the one you currently hold.
It tears up my heart every time I drive by you in the rush hours traffic, holding your sign advertising that you sell the Homeless Advocate but it hurts so much more not knowing that you are still sticking through the life you been dealt.
Summer is coming and I am concerned as to how you will get through it without sunscreen and if you'll have enough access to water.
Not seeing you on the street selling the paper makes me worry how you will afford to eat.
Doc, why don't you come back? Don't you know that people care about you and need for you to be ok? Surely you have to know this...
I'm waiting for you and can't wait to see your sweet smile. Come back soon, I've got water and some canned goods stored in my car for the occasion that you return home.
I've been taking Lamar to work in the mornings, home and back at lunch, and in the evenings heading for the close of my day, and have yet to have seen you.
I'm starting to worry, as you've never been lost this long.
I tell myself that maybe you've just moved up north, or that you've found a place on the east side, but I know that life is not that easy.
I remember the day I pulled into the Furr's parking lot and met you for the first time. You had a smile on your face the entire 20 minutes we chatted in the shade of the bus stop at the lot entrance. You made silly, funny little jokes and acted as if it was the best day of your life. All was right in your world.
I'm smiling now, reflecting on the glisten of your old, worn eyes as I handed you the gallon of water, canned peaches, and Campbell's soup, thanking me profusely and with such warmth.
Such a kind old soul as yourself deserves so much more out of your retirement years. Someone who had fought for our country in WWII, surely earned a place in society besides the one you currently hold.
It tears up my heart every time I drive by you in the rush hours traffic, holding your sign advertising that you sell the Homeless Advocate but it hurts so much more not knowing that you are still sticking through the life you been dealt.
Summer is coming and I am concerned as to how you will get through it without sunscreen and if you'll have enough access to water.
Not seeing you on the street selling the paper makes me worry how you will afford to eat.
Doc, why don't you come back? Don't you know that people care about you and need for you to be ok? Surely you have to know this...
I'm waiting for you and can't wait to see your sweet smile. Come back soon, I've got water and some canned goods stored in my car for the occasion that you return home.
No acknowledgements - acknowledge
Time as delegated by man
Life Voyeurs
