The Human Thing to Do

Sitting in this garden
I wonder each day anew,
In this world of anguish
The human thing to do.

On Monday morn I’ve shops to tour,
My cooking to pursue
But I see people steal and think of
The human thing to do.

I see their bones quite plainly,
Their eyes and sunken cheeks,
Their hands can move quite deftly,
Avoiding any peeks.

My shopping is all done now,
I wait outside to see
The shop-keep come a-chasing – 
That could have well been me!

I shout and motion over,
The kids now out of sight
And give him a few pounds now –
It gave him quite a fright.

‘But Miss, this is your money’,
And don’t I know it well!
Those kids need it more than I,
That much I can tell.

So off I trot to find them,
The man’s mouth still hung wide
I bring and offer gifts now,
Something to turn the tide.

This was a few years back now,
My instincts were quite true
And oft I think back now
Of that human thing I do.

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