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A homeless man or woman,
Another child of God.
You'll turn your back. and then walk away,
Because you find them odd.
No fireplace or warm, dry bed,
No family to call their own.
In the cold is where they sleep,
That's where they call home.
Exposed to natures elements,
On a frozen bench they lie.
While you sleep in your warm house,
Fed, secure, and dry.
That could have been you instead,
You are but one bad break away.
Then everyone can treat you
Exactly the same way.
Buy them a warm and hardy meal,
And stop being critical.
Give them shoes with out holes,
You can be the miracle!Poem by: B G Wetherby
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 "His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me."
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