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An Essence of the Past---Visited the Present

Suzanne Talking to a Homeless Old Man

an-essence-of-the-past-visited-the-present

She stopped in front of the old man---crippled and worn,

His clothes were raggedy---dirty and torn.


His seat---the cold icy cement---sidewalk,

Always---where he waited for his other

homeless friends---to talk.


He looked up at her beautiful young Angel face,

She smiled back---but stood her place.

I am Suzanne she said--- named after my Granny Suzanne

and I am looking for---my Papa Fred,

Mama and Daddy said he is not dead.


But he left home before I was born---and I am seven today,

So, I wanted to find my Grandpapa Fred---maybe he came this way?


When Mama and Daddy think I am napping---I am searching,

I know what I will say to him---I’ve been rehearsing.

This is Mary my doll---she is special---and precious to me,

Papa Fred gave her to my Mama you see.


I know she looks old, and some hair is missing,

But Mary and I have been wishing.


That Papa Fred could hold her once more---before she is repaired,

Mary wants to show Papa Fred all that we have shared.


I have to go now it is snowing,

And shouldn’t you also be going?

Don’t worry about me child---but I will look out for your Papa Fred,

And I promise to tell him all you have said.


But you have to promise me---you will not look for him---alone,

Now it is time for you to go home.


So, she ran all the way home---and silently climbed into her bed.

The old homeless guy walked slowly into the alley facing the coldness--- his nightly dread.

His home a cardboard box---half filled with rags from others trash,

This was now his kingdom---a place of his own to crash.


The snow fell hard as a blizzard through the night,

None of the homeless moved until the sun was bright.


Everyone was up and stood around the barrels of fire,

Barrels were their only warmth---with talks of food searches to conspire.


Soon they noticed one was missing---the oldest old man had not risen,

They found him frozen inside his box home---his icy prison.

He held in his hand--- a locket of gold,

It surely was antique---it appeared very old.


Tears were frozen on his face,

He was now warm and happy in another---time and place.


Inside the locket was a picture of a little girl and her Mama and Dad,

The little girl about one---with an Angel face looked sad.

The inscription on the back said,

My Darling Suzanne---Love Forever---Your Fred.

Grandpa--Tell Me 'Bout The Good Old Days

This content reflects the personal opinions of the author. It is accurate and true to the best of the author’s knowledge and should not be substituted for impartial fact or advice in legal, political, or personal matters.

© 2021 Barbara Purvis Hunter

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