Hitchhiker and Old Lady
By larry r Linville

He stands beside the highway
all possessions in a sack.
His thumb is lifted upward
and he’s always looking back.

He spent last night in his bed roll
on a picnic table at a park
a stray dog laying by him
watching over him in the dark.

He scavenges in trash barrels
to find something he can eat.
A sandwich and stale french fries
seem like a bountiful treat.

Fancy cars speed right by him
with a big sneer on their face.
They see him as an object
as they speak of such disgrace.

One car stopped to help him
and he saw a bible on the seat.
He didn’t want a sermon
but he had to rest his feet.

“Where are you headed, Sonny?”
asked the old lady in the car.
“I don’t know where I’m going,
but I’ve already gone far.”

She drove to the nearest city
and stopped at a nice café.
She order him a hearty meal
and used her pension check to pay.

“You remind me of my own son
who left one day long ago.”
She patted his rough chapped hand
with her wrinkled face aglow.

“I never saw my boy again.
I don’t know where he ever went,
but the chance I’ve had to help you
is a gift that’s heaven sent.”

He saw her cell phone by her hand
as he reach for his dirty comb
and asked her for permission
to call his mother at home.

When the call was over
and his tears were all wiped dry
bus money was on the table
and the lady said, “Good bye.”

The boy rode a Greyhound home
to his mother’s loving kisses.
The lady’s house was less empty
for her son which she still misses.