Cold and alone in a world,
concrete and steel surround their hearts.
Street people wonder if their dream,
is worth the time it took to invent it.
On the street corner with a cup
hopefully with a few coins in it.
Hoping one day to replace the cup,
with s future with hope in it.
Hopefully they will not perish,
because of our ignorance or apathy.
Because of our lack of a few coins,
in our very deep mortal souls.
Hopefully, they will not be overshadowed
because of our charitable foreign affairs.
Let us pray the computer age does not
delete the down trodden from our screens.
For they are us, they are humans,
our brothers, our sisters, our fellow man.
Their dignity is scarred beneath the dirt,
of worn, tattered rags substituted for clothing.
Hold out your hand to your fellow man,
then your heart will naturally follow.
This country cannot be truly great,
as long as people eat out of garbge cans. . .
Timothy Michael DiVito c 1997
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