The old Hobo sat and warmed his back and feet-

By the heat of a pot bellyed stove.

Folding the pocketless trousers he got-

while listening to an old friends woes.

His shoes were used and the soles had holes-

Taken from a nearby gargage bin.

But early one day he kindly gave them away-

to a much less fortunate friend.

His hair was white uncombed and stood upgright-

but went flat under his smoke stack hat.

Then he'd giggle and grin from a stubbled chin-

because he liked it just like that..

Yes he  liked it just like that.

He drank cheap wine

alone most of the time.

Eating pork & beans from a tin can.

With contrite care he'd always motion a prayer

With his fingerless gloved hands.

He spoke but four words

I ever heard

From a heart as big as his vest

And just before he passed away

On my television he did say

Good night ,& God Bless

The End

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