The Poor Man Poem by Randy McClave

The poor man, had died,
For him a few people had cried,
He was both thoughtful and kind
He left no worldly possessions behind;
His social standing, he did not hide.

He had never cheated or lied
Everyone looked at him and laughed or sighed,
But, he never did mind.
The poor man.

I live my life for honor and pride
As I still remember my impoverished guide,
To wealth and possessions he was blind
By his compassion he was defined;
They say that he's now at God's side.
The poor man.

Randy L. McClave