My gift to those
just wandering in
is almost as sweet
as a beggar’s grin

who’s fresh off the street
eager and thin
unclouded by prose
or voices within

who’s red as a rose
clipped well by right’s whim
and given to those
come wandering in

The grin or the beggar
The will or the whim
The flicker from candle
or wax burned within

My hope for those
just settling in
is to blur unwise prattle
and wander within

To pay at the door
or sneak yourself in
lift your heart like a rattle
and shake ’till you grin