The Old Man

He stepped from the shadows
His hat in his hand
Looking so desperate
Trying hard just to stand.

You got some spare change?
Was what he said to me.
There were patches on his coat
And rips at his knees.

When did you eat last?
Was the question I asked
As I spied from a pocket
The top of a flask.

Let’s get us some dinner
I said as I took his arm.
But his body went stiff
Tensed with alarm.

Don’t hit me mister!
He flinched as he begged
With his arms covering
The top of his head.

It’s okay old man
I said in calm voice
Pick what dinner you like
Tonight it’s your choice.

We walked around the corner
To an old greasy spoon
Where he ordered some soup
That came out hot and soon.

We talked to each other
For most of an hour
He had some more soup
Which he quickly devoured.

I offered a lift to the Mission
And gave him a few bills
Adding sleeping outside
Could make him terribly ill.

Shaking his head sadly
He mumbled under his breath
The best that could happen
Was meeting his death.

I shook his gnarled old hand
Told him he’d be in my prayers
And walked outside
In the chill evening air.

I knew I’d not see him again
At least in this life.
There’s pain beyond pain
That cuts like a knife.

Maybe somewhere in heaven
An angels’ reporting to the Lord
Saying a kind man fed him
Offering him money and board.

So, yeah, I may see him again
This time with halo and wings
And I’ll be his guest
As I eat while he sings!