Forgotten

Every day for the last few years, she would walk through Park Avenue on her way to the office downtown.

And every day, as she passed by a Church, she would hear the same exact words over and over again:

Please help me out. I’m a homeless man. That’s hungry. Please. God still bless you. God bless your families also.

These words, spoken by a man standing on the street corner, became etched in her mind:

Please help me out. I’m a homeless man.  That’s hungry. Please. God still bless you. God bless your families also.

She would recognize his voice anywhere now, but he stood in the same spot day after day, pleading:

Please help me out. I’m a homeless man. That’s hungry. Please. God still bless you. God bless your families also.

As if a refrain in a forgotten poem.

© 2016 magicofwords

To celebrate National Poetry Month, I will write a poem a day.

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