The wind cuts through the holes in my blanket. I think about life, how it changes in an instant – no apology – no reason given!
Almost a year now – chink of a coin tossed, not enough for a soup.
Of those who pass by – the smell of the polished shoe, the well to do – old tired feet that shuffle – busy feet that race – those without work have no pace.
Bless you Sir! I feel the warmth of a loving word, the golden touch of humanity. It fills me with life, and courage to go on.