John Scully

Rookie (19th October 1947 / London)

The Soup Run - Poem by John Scully

Last night it rained
and the night before
when the soup kitchen came.
Nice people those
who hand out food
and listen to us
moaning and groaning.

'At how unfair'
that people pass and stare.

'Never mind dear
drink up your soup
it's cold out tonight
you don't want a chill
we can't have you ill'.

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Poem Submitted: Friday, June 1, 2012

Poem Edited: Saturday, June 2, 2012

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