THE VAGRANT

THE VAGRANT


The little boy said "Daddy
See that old man's home?
Look, there's no roof on it
And it's made of foam."

The father knew the homeless
Lived around this park
But never had he seen a house
Made of foam and bark.

"Son, that man's a vagrant
He doesn't work like me
He pays no taxes either
And gets his food for free."

As the dad sat on a bench nearby
His face stuck in a book
The child stepped closer to the hut
To have a better look.

There were candles everywhere
And home-made cigarettes
A candy bar and some gum
A paper that said "VETS".

His eyes then saw a Bible
And as he looked inside
He saw there was a picture
On it was inscribed:

"If you make it out alive
On this Christmas Eve
Think of me with fondness
Sargent, do not grieve."

The little boy sat outside
Wittling on a stick
Waiting while his daddy slept
The fog was getting thick.

Suddenly, he heard a noise
And looked up to see
The vagrant man had come "home"
No need for a house key.

His hair was white as snow
But his clothes neatly sewn
And he looked gaunt and fragile
With just skin & bones.

"Don't be 'fraid" he said aloud
"I may look funny and sad
But I left some things overseas
And they're all I ever had."

"'When you grow up and decide
What you want to do
Pray to God for courage
And some wisdom too."

"But above all else, son
On every Christmas Eve
Thank Him for the freedom
To worship and believe."

The dad awoke and they went "home"
But on this Holy Night
Heaven sent a little boy
Falling snow, so white.

The next day he saw the place
Which the old man called home
But it was replaced with snow
And now looked so alone.

Still all his life on Christmas Eve
He prayed for that old man
Who left his legs and buddies
Far away in Vietnam.