He sat like a broken man
On a worn out couch
Tired, weary, flagging
From a hard
Day pulling wrenches.
Work shirt,
Greasy pants,
Two day growth
On a grizzled chin,
Snoring slightly, and
Cupping in his soiled hand
A pristine phone.
With a message and a heart.
She felt her face burn
With shame and degradation.
So like a vixen she schemed
And thought of a plan
But traded instead
For a dignity all her own
And class to consider.
With liquid courage
And ram rod back
She washed her clothes,
Her face, her hair and
Her hands.
And prepared to be
alone.
Purple Pennies 