The Man


It’s 5 pm on Monday,
the work day at an end.
Thoughts of family on her mind,
the travel home begins.

A merge onto the interstate,
the traffic moving slow,
The a/c running at full blast,
music on the radio.

The exit soon approaching,
looking forward to the night.
Then she sees him standing there,
at the next stop light.

He stands beside the road,
a cardboard sign in his hand.
A battered bag at his side,
a cane to help him stand.

The scorching sun beats down on him,
as sweat runs down his spine.
His mind is wandering aimlessly,
as he waits for someone kind.

He’s wondering how he got here,
he reflects upon his life.
Long ago he headed home,
On a Monday night.

He watches as the cars go by,
no one looks his way.
He knows just what they think of him,
this sweltering summer day.

He was once behind the wheel,
as he passed a man.
Standing there beside the road,
a sign in his hand.

Soon he sees a window down,
and then an outstretched hand.
He looks up to a smiling face,
as she lends a hand.

As the sun is setting down,
a coolness in the air.
He’s thankful that someone today,
took the time to care.


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