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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2170329
by Norman
Rated: E · Poetry · Entertainment · #2170329
Life can be fickle sometimes
He sat there on that dirty street
Not a spot of him was clean
He was as sad and sorry a sight
As you have ever seen

BUY A RHYME FOR A DIME
Read the sign hung 'round his neck
The price seemed rather steep to me
But I said, "What the heck"

He opened up the satchel
He held close by his side
Then he peered into the canvas
Like he had something to hide

He pulled a bunch of papers
From the bottom of the sack
He said, "Before you take one
Hand over the money, Mack"

I searched all of my pockets
Looking for the quoted price
I thought since it was Sunday
A discount would be nice

He said these were his treasures
Each worth its weight in gold
But since it was just paper
I thought his claim was bold

He gave a bunch of sheets to me
He said to choose my own
I glanced at several of them
And let out a soft groan

His poems were daft and dizzy
Nothing I would ever read
I paid him my good money
Just doing a good deed

The man was old and withered
Up close he looked so ancient
I read the fine print on his sign
SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL MENTAL PATIENT

I bought two sketchy poems from him
I thought about another
For he looked so familiar
He could have been my brother

My long lost twin brother!
I realized to my shock
It felt like someone struck me
On my head with a big rock

He said, "Hello there, Jimmy"
I said, "Hello there, Joe,
How's life treating you?"
"You don't want to know"

He said that he'd been stranded
Just left out in the rain
Ever since the clinic closed its doors
And abandoned him again

And now he made his living
Selling silly rhymes and poems
The sidewalks and the park bench
Were now his only home

I said I'd like to help him
A brother through and through
So I bought another poem from him
It was the least that I could do
© Copyright 2018 Norman (jimmynee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2170329