I held my Grandma’s hand. We walked past an old man.

I started to cry, he was missing an eye!

We tossed a few coins in his pan.

Sixty years have passed. Many questions I have asked.

As I look around town, young people on the ground with cardboard signs abound.

“Anything helps,” they read. Trash surrounds a nearby tree.

Air stinks of cigarettes and weed. A dog is tied up for sympathy. What a wasted Society!

I look with an angry glare. Enablers are everywhere.

They reach for their wallets and hand over bills, despite all the jobs that go unfilled!

Lisa Green

Bayfield