During the great "depression"
about the age of eight a
cold and hungry "Hobo"
entered our garden

Mama knew that they would
come from early morn to late,
for those so kind to stop had
left their "mark"on our garden gate

I asked to have a bowl so I
could eat with him,he was
so nice and humble
I asked him back again

As her little boy I heard my
mother say,"when we leave
this world,the only thing we
take, is what we gave away

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