He was sitting on
The curb
Along with the weekly
Bins of trash.
Why? I wondered,
Who put
Him there, under
The sweltering
Sun? Yet,
I was afraid to ask.
I leave the business
Of others,
As much as I can,
To them, alone.
His smile seemed
A mystery, asking
Much of
Me and his eyes
Blazed an uncanny blue.
He spoke
Well and was inclined
To be my friend;
I guess
Those and others are
Reasons how I came
Now, ever,
To have a presence
In my home
To whom I may never
Ascertain who once
Did belong.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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