I held my Grandma’s hand. We walked past an old man.
I started to cry, he was missing an eye!
We tossed a few coins in his pan.
Sixty years have passed. Many questions I have asked.
As I look around town, young people on the ground with cardboard signs abound.
“Anything helps,” they read. Trash surrounds a nearby tree.
Air stinks of cigarettes and weed. A dog is tied up for sympathy. What a wasted Society!
I look with an angry glare. Enablers are everywhere.
They reach for their wallets and hand over bills, despite all the jobs that go unfilled!
Lisa Green
Bayfield
