Our Daily Bread

He stood alone in the supermarket's deli line,

counting his change with nickels and pennies in order to dine.

Unkempt and not much more than a bone was he

as I watched all this from the aisle behind the tea.

Impatience though, was the order for the day,

As the server scoffed at his honest but futile, attempt to pay.

Too many other things in this life for her to do,

than to be polite to someone attempting to pay his dues.

With her impatience giving way to anger at this poor mans attempt to dine,

I stepped out from behind the tea and assumed a place in line.

I stood there behind this man and I could feel his shame,

For what he had ordered, cost more than he had change.

This is America, land of the free thought I,

And standing before me was poverty attempting merely to dine.

And just as I was about to speak,

I heard the man say

 that he had not enough money in which to eat.

Sadness quickly gripped my heart,

As I watched, this man gather his change to depart.

"excuse me sir", to him, I softly said,

"get what you want, for today, it is I that shall buy,

so that you can be fed."

With that said and done,

A smile crossed his sallow face,

That would have for radiance sake…

rivaled the sun.

"Thank you sir…thank you"

Was all he said,

As I reached into my pocket

And pulled out enough

to pay for his daily bread.

J. Allen Wilson © 2004