The Children Of God Poem by Martin Lochner

The Children Of God



a sweet eyed
boy stared at me
standing swaying
at a township crossroad
ripped, dirty
clothing that gave up along time
ago to be washed, mended and to
be cared for
rewarding me
with Gods perfect white smile
that gestured nothing more
then a simple impoverished
goodwill
I smiled back and cursed
the boot full with Christmas grocery shopping
and LED rainbow lights

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