“ I hate Saturdays” based on
an actual encounter
‘I hate Saturdays, ‘ he suddenly said
‘Much rather be in bed !’
‘Why’s that?’ I asked with a
quizzical look
As he stood there swaying, his hands
shook.
He told me that he couldn’t bother.
He had no wife, no child, no brother.
Nothing to give and nothing to share
No house, no home, no place, nowhere.
His story he began to trace
Of hard times, written on his face.
He told me that he’d got no money,
But drink in hand I thought ‘That’s
funny!’
I thought, ‘I’ve heard this all
before’
Yet this poor soul’s plight I
couldn’t ignore.
Unclean, unkempt__ with haggard face,
Unvalued part of the human race.
He told me that his name was Stan,
Had once been a bright young man,
Yet
Mr. Trouble and Mrs. Strife’
Had robbed him of a normal life.
In his eyes I saw no hope,
Plain to me, he couldn’t cope,
A heart so full of woe and sorrow,
For whom there was no bright
tomorrow.
Before our time came came to an end,
I told him that there was one friend ,
From whose love he could not stray
But by his side would ever stay.
I gave him coins and said a prayer,
‘Dear Lord please show him that
you’re there’
Others, I know, have a similar story,
But hope this man I’ll meet in
glory...
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