NaPoWriMo: Day twenty four

If God

Where a man

He would be a hobo

Like the old school comic book hobo

With shoes with curled up toes

Rosy cheeks between a five o’clock shadow

And a red and white polka dot  sack on a stick.

He would ride the rails every day

Playing gospel on a harmonica

Eating beans from a can

And when someone would ask him why

Why he chose to come back as a hobo

He would simply nod and smile

Sit them down by the fire

Hand them the can and a spoon

And tell them

With a voice of quite thunder

Of sunlight at dusk

Of trees growing

Of an ocean

“Sometimes the serious stuff happens when everyone isn’t taking things too seriously”


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