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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/973715
by Fyn
Rated: 13+ · Other · Other · #973715
Switching poems mid-thought with good reason,
I've lived in the moutains, the forests, the plains,
I've lived where it snows and I've lived where it rains,
I've lived where it tornados and earthquakes and 'cains,
I've lived near the ocean and where polar bears reign!

I've lived in the city and village and town,
I've lived in the country with no one around,
I've lived in apartments, condos and flats,
I lived in mansions, and a tar papered shack.

I've lived in front porch waving places,
and front stoop homes where you avoid seeing faces,
I've lived on a house boat, I've lived in a tower,
I've lived in a tent where rain was my shower.

I've lived on a river and in the Great Lakes,
I've lived on the ocean, and fancy estates,
I've lived with servants and I've lived alone,
I've lived with and without things like TVs and phone.

I've lived with money and felt mighty poor,
I've lived with nothing and couldn't wish for more,
I've lived with dogs and I've lived with a cat
and the thing I have learned is simply that...

no matter where or whith whom you live
you get out of life only what you give.
The faces may vary, the pocketbooks too
but all that matters is that you are you!

People are people, some good and some bad,
some rich and some poor, some happy, some sad,
some honest, some scoundrels, some delightfully funny,
some exist hand to mouth, others are rolling in money

but deep down inside, I believe we're the same,
we all have desires, we all have a name,
we all go to sleep at night and hope to awaken,
we all have our beliefs and want to not be foresaken.

We all have our dreams and we all have our doubts,
we all have things that we do without.
We all look to the future for what it may bring
and we all have our seasons, whether winter or spring---

*This poem had a destination,
there was a point to this rumination
but listening to the news as I wrote
I heard this story of some small note
and it changed this poem's point of being
into something else which I'm just now seeing.*

I heard something on the news today
that bothered me, kind of blew me away...
a man was shot in a nearby burg
as he wheeled his trash out to the curb.

He wasn't robbed or involved with drugs,
no sex offender that he was filled with slugs;
just a plain old man bringing out his trash.
He was killed. What garbage. How impossibly rash.

The police asked his wife if she knew what was gone,
she shook her head and she thought hard and long.
We shred all the bills, we had pork chops last night...
It was also the cat's litter and the broken porch light.

All that was missing were the bones from the trash,
not the old gentleman's wallet, nor credit cards or cash.
Such a sad statement of the depths folks can sink
and it stopped me in my tracks and made me think.

It doesn't matter where you live,
or what kind of neighborhood,
You never know when death will come
even if you are healthy, even if you are good.
That old woman said it the best as she spoke through her tears,
she said they'd done it for forty-eight years,
that just as he walked out the door
he'd said I love you, hon,
she replied; love you more.

© Copyright 2005 Fyn (fyndorian at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/973715