Sitting on the corner, guitar in his hand,
Singing songs, the words of which he cannot understand.
He doesn't know what love is - he's never learnt to care;
There's nothing that he calls 'his' - except what's with him there.
Won't somebody tell him - Christ came from above;
He left His throne in Glory to demonstrate His love?
And, whilst there may be reasons for his feelings of despair,
He needs to trust in Jesus, and find that God does care.
Though the streets are crowded, even late at night;
Though there are others with him, there's no friend in sight.
There's nothing that he lives for - he dreads each coming day;
To him, peace is a closed door, and joy, an unknown way.
Won't somebody tell him - that's why Jesus came;
To fill his world with peace and joy; to give his life an aim?
And though he may be tempted to surrender to his fate,
There is no reason to accept, that, for him, it's too late.
Who must be responsible for this man's tragic plight?
We must! So let's reach out to him, and set matters right!
This poem was a finalist in the April 2007 poetry contest