Poor Paul Pritchard The sun beamed high in the noonday sky As poor Paul Pritchard played. He tried to erase the fears he would face But his worry always stayed. The night would come and then by some Force unknown to us all. The figures fade into the shade. Alone on the street stood Paul. Poor Pritchard stood with what he could, When trouble crossed his way. He fought for ground, but took a round And there we see him lay. Hungry and cold the truth is told, If we take a look around. The number climbs with tougher times, As Paul already found. Searching for food, life is crude, When homelessness claims your name. No longer a few with nothing to do, Our cities are filled with shame. How can we stand and not demand That something must be done? When just like Paul, we too may fall With nowhere left to run.                                        Thal Dixon                                        Published first in                                        California Work World                                        September 1993                                        College and Career Publishing
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