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Rated: · Poetry · Other · #1709960
When our children see the real us, not the super us, it can be upsetting....
My little boy saw a homeless man

Laying upon the steps of the cathedral

No blanket, no pillow, no bed

Trying to sleep on the cold hard cement



My little boy asked after awhile

Why doesn't he have a blanket, a pillow, a bed...like me

I said I did not know,

But the world was a cold dark place, and,

maybe that is what we are suppose to do

Give our blankets

our pillows

our beds



As I tucked him into

his bed, with his blanket and his pillow

with a story and a kiss

He asked why didn't we just help the man

I said Son, you just don't understand.

And he cried for he was left

with the knowledge that his mother

Was only human

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