UNFIT
He walked slowly down the street all haggard and worn,
Wishing with all his heart that he had never been born,
There was the house that used to be his happy home,
A place to return to whenever for work he did roam.

One day he thought that home life he wanted no more,
He wanted a taste of the good life, lots of fun galore,
Not to be tied down with a homes heavy responsibility,
But be all footloose and of all worry completely free.

His new life style caused him after awhile his job to loose,
Help for his struggling family he would have to refuse,
His fancy apartment had to go, just a dirty room small,
No one would ever hire him, oh, how great was his fall.

Every night the family prayed that daddy would return,
Love lingered on and for him all longingly did yearn,
He felt that longing as he walked along that cold street,
But now he was homeless and too dirty and not fit to greet.

He saw his wife get off the bus, hurry quickly to the door,
The children came to meet her, then he could see no more,
The door closed and that special moment was soon gone,
Then for a few short seconds a beam of hope turned on.

He walked to the gate, but no way could he enter in,
He was too full of evil, too embedded in wicked sin,
Patch came to greet him with a welcome meow, but no,
He would wander the empty streets until to hell he’d go.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson 21 June 2004