Amid the cold and falling rain,
the words upon his cardboard sign
so faintly read, "Please help me, please,"
while patrons of the mall decline.
He stood outside a restaurant
in dirty, tattered rags for clothes.
They'd leave without a dime to spare.
A bit too proper, I suppose.
I watched in shock as I grew near
the wealthy passed so inhumane.
I reached the man and offered him
my own umbrella from the rain.
"Let's go inside, I'll feed you, friend."
I said atop the pounding storm.
"A hearty meal of bread and soup.
At least in there it's dry and warm."
I listened to his tales of woe.
He lost his job, his home and wife.
From shame he did not follow her,
to burden her own parent's life.
I asked him of the skills he had.
He'd majored in a field as I.
I called my work for open spots.
The job was his if he'd apply.
I took him home and let him bathe.
He cut his hair and shaved his face.
I offered up my couch for sleep.
"At least until you find a place."
The clothes I shared fit perfectly.
The checkered tie matched how he dressed.
We typed him out a resume
and yes, my boss was quite Impressed.
He started work the next day's morn
and made the job a lasting trade.
While looking back we still recall
the giant change compassion made.
Now we've become so close as friends.
His wife is always kind and sweet.
So gracious that I fought the storm
and helped him land back on his feet.
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