On Thursdays he came, peddling his wares
packed in an old grocery cart
squeaking all the way down the hall
to our offices, his toothless mouth a-grin,
tattered overalls hanging on his frame.

We gave him fifty cents for peanuts,
bypassed the cabbages and the corn.
Consumed with deadlines,
we didn't offer more.

Three weeks straight he didn't come.
Then we heard he had died
in a VA hospital.

We didn't know about the cancer;
I guess we never asked.

I wish I'd felt his pain,
seen the loneliness in his eyes,
bought his cabbages and his corn. 

Copyright 1993 Ruth Gillis

This page is best viewed in Internet Explorer browser with a large screen monitor.
Other browser users will not be able to hear the music or see the special
effects on some of the pages. 

For info on page design/graphics, and for email
go to my Index page.

The music on this page is "Converging Shadows" by Bruce DeBoer.

All poetry written by Ruth Gillis is copyrighted and may not be used in any way
without written permission from the author herself,
whether it is found on this site or any other.
If you would like to use my poetry for any purpose,
please email me for permission.
Sharing a link to my pages is greatly appreciated.