A Warm Welcome Home
He trudged along the highway,
a menace to the light of day.
Evening came, his bedroll laid out,
away from headlights, full of doubt.
Neon lights, however, called his name,
“Come hither, you are not to blame.”
At sunrise, a fresh scent filled the air.
He breathed relief and began to care.
The streets were alive with people of vigor;
a kind smile was on the face of a vendor.
With caution, he approached an open heart;
a meal was prepared, strength for a new start.
This kindness witnessed, word rapidly spread.
He followed the crowd; no longer did he dread.
They ushered him into a set of doors open wide,
a shelter to the poor cleaned with great pride.
He walked around, met each and every eye;
this could be home, no more saying goodbye.
As they stood in line to eat that first night,
she poured soup in his bowl, an angel of light.
At bedtime, she gave them all an extra blanket;
he was finally warm and snuggled in comfort.
He woke to her smile; his forehead she did kiss
as she raised the blinds and said, “Welcome home, Chris.”
2nd Place Winner in "A Poem A Day Contest."
© Copyright 2012 The Doorman (UN: jonmark at Writing.Com).
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