Homeless Man

I met a man on the street, as he walked up to me,
“Open your wallet,” he spoke with a plea.
“What is it you want?” I said with slight fear,
As the weight of my workday grew, anxiety came near

“You have plenty of money, what more could you need?
Pictures, a beautiful wife, children, a life with a lead.
A home that is safe, the gift of your health—
What more could you want than that beautiful wealth?”

The question he asked hit me harder than thought,
“I want the promotion, the recognition I sought!
I’m forty-two years, yet I haven’t gone far.”
He looked at my suit, then he looked at my car.

“Far for what? What is it you want?
You have a family, a life, and a front.
All of the things that I lost on the way,
Climbing and climbing, and working each day.
I scaled every mountain, I did every task,
When it couldn’t be done, I was the man they would ask.
I was just like you, but you still have time—
Before you lose everything during the climb.

When you opened your wallet, I thought it’d be bare,
By the look on your face, reflecting such sheer despair.
Why do you fret? What is it you want?
I’ll gladly trade places; I’ll take your spot.
You can have my old stoop in the alley today,
It’s all that I have since I threw it away.

So do me a favor before wishing for more?
Go home, breathe deep, and walk through your door.
Savor the family, the touch, and the love,
The blessings that fall from the heavens above.
The laughter of children, a kiss for the night—
The treasures that money can’t bring into light.”

He looked up at me with a tear in his eye,
For the things that he lost and could no longer buy.
It was all that I had, but I didn’t enjoy,
I ached and I toiled for a corporate ploy.
I sat in my pain, unable to move,
Was this man a ghost of the “me” I would soon prove?
He turned his back slowly, to walk to his stoop.

I followed him there, and I reached for my cash,
His hand rose in silence, his voice was a flash:
“I don’t want your money; I just want one day,
To have back the life that I squandered away.
To wake in the morning to a woman who cared,
To children who loved me and knew I was there.
I chased the wrong ladder, the one they designed,
I climbed to the top, only horror to find.
It wasn’t a dream, but a nightmare instead;
Without those I loved, I was already dead.

You can still salvage your life, before it’s too late
Absent the things they tell us to chase.
Find your reward in a beautiful face,
Of the woman who loves you, the kids who still need,
A father at night—not a man driven by greed.
There’s no price tag or money, no title or lease,
That can buy back your spirit...I don’t want your money. I want your peace.”

I found myself standing with salt in my eyes,
No longer a victim of career progressing lies.
I ran through the rain to the car in the street,
With a heart that was finally finding its beat.
No longer blinded, no longer astray,
I stopped holding “living” for some other day.

I packed up my desk with a grin and a sigh,
And bid all my office acquaintances a final goodbye.
I traded the boardroom for playgrounds and light,
For magical stories and kisses goodnight.
I filled up my soul, just like the man said,
I invested in the priceless vice the “profit” instead.