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by George
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Philosophy · #2210132
The toll of time

As I was walking down the street one bright and sunny day,
I saw a beggar man ahead, crouched down along the way.
O’ I was young and quick to judge, and promised then and there
That I would never beg, like he, in hopes someone would care.
"Shame, shame on you," I scolded him. He sullenly looked up
And shyly raised what looked to be a rusted, silver cup.
"If you can spare a coin," he spoke, "I’ll tell a truth to thee."
"And what, that I don’t know, old man, can you say unto me?"
The old boy smiled and answered then, "A truth you might deny.
But one you’ll understand too well when time has passed you by."
And then his words depressed my youthful spirit like a pall:
"Time," said the ancient citizen, "makes beggars of us all."

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