I thought less of him.

Why would he beg?

Why would he sit there?

with a bowl by his leg.

I thought less of him.

He asked me for change.

He held his hand out.

I shied away.

I thought even less of him.

Disgusted with his unkempt hands.

Making me feel dirty.

To ignore these demands.

I was angry with him.

A man I didn’t know.

Sitting on an old blanket

Out there in the snow.

I stood up, got help.

Now, I have a job and a wife.

And as I write this poem,

I now know…

The change I needed

was inside me all along.