Giving is Love Made Tangible
Now that times have slowed down at Hotel Sannhet, my muse and I conspired to write the following: They see their brother in a doorway. They know him not, at least not that way. His hand is out; there are no words. He’s all alone; cut from the herd. His condition is made up of three: Empty hand, stomach, and soul do plea. "Please help me out, I’ve lost my way. A dollar would build a gracious day." Says one out loud, "I cannot give To one like that; not how he lives. I can’t be sure that he won’t... Sign in to see full entry.