Haves and  the Have-nots
                                                                    © 1985, 2015  J. Mark Witters


It's four in the morning, and almost no traffic;
Make my way slowly to my own private cell.
I wonder about this meager existence
From a third-story window of this battered hotel.

A middle-aged vagrant spins the wheel of misfortune.
He sits at a park bench with his head in his hands.
A destitute mother still has faith in Jesus.
In a world without mercy, nothing turns out as planned.

Silently longing for someone's attention,
I'm left in a corner like an old souvenir.
I've written my memoirs, but no one will read them.
This play's cast with soulless.  Nobody hears...

Haves and the have-nots are all at their harvest
To see what the what they each reap when the time is at hand.
The last will surpass the first they've long followed.
In a time without mercy, nothing turns out as planned.

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