Tattered Sidewalk Flowers

Cardboard for a mattress, their luggage hauled in carts,
they’re invisible to most who don’t see with their hearts.
Like flotsam washed up on the shore, hidden in the reeds.
Urban tumbleweeds.

They once were the nation’s pride; Soldiers, Dads and Moms.
Now they sit beside the street asking passerby’s for alms.
They’re tattered sidewalk flowers grown from desperate seeds.
Urban tumbleweeds.

They’ve lost their way through drugs or drink or simply from neglect.
But each is a part of our family so how can we reject
to acknowledge their pain and pleas to help each one succeed?
Urban tumbleweeds.

Like plastic bags they’re blown around the streets of every town.
When they are acknowledged, it’s usually with a frown.
A smile, a hello, who knows where a little dignity might lead.
Urban tumbleweeds.

It seems their prayers are never answered. It’s as if God doesn’t care.
But He’s asked us to keep our brothers from starvation and despair.
If we show compassion and offer help to fulfill their needs,
perhaps no more Urban tumbleweeds.


Note:  Thank you for taking the time to read my work.  Please take a few more seconds and provide a review.  Criticism and praise equally accepted
Ken