Faye Sizemore


He wore an old Army jacket
And had for some time
As it was tattered and worn
His face was weathered and red
And in a roll, he carried his bed
The temps were dropping to a record low
And the night wind was starting to blow
“Let me give you a ride
I know a shelter where you can abide”
He shook his head and said
“To those places I don’t go
They always cause me woe”
I pressed a few bills into his hand
“Get some hot coffee…
It’s going to be a cold night, man”
“Thank you”, he said
And shouldered his bed
“Keep your back to the wind
And… God willing…
I’ll see you somewhere again…”