Sit There

Sit there; let me whisper in your ear,
Go lean your elbow on your knee, to beg
The burden of a donation–I should care,
Should I not? That the hungry go unfed?
Back when the storm had swept the city dead,
And miraculous colors washed and bled to grays.
Where was I? Not here–surely in my bed
Warmly clothed and at some other place
Than this–so where to hide now, oh beggar?
May I sit by you in fallen grace?
Calmly claim your status, let me gather
What pride is left; to see in wrinkled brow
A calm eloquence whose visage I now rather
Envy–a place now far superior to my own.


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