I saw an old dishevelled man <br />Who was begging upon the street. <br />He was huddled within an empty shop doorway, <br />Where he tried to shelter from the cold. <br />He held an empty bottle of spirit <br />Within his shaking hand. <br />As I was passing by I asked him, <br />'Have you no respect Sir? ' <br />He slowly lifted his head <br />And stared into my eyes. <br />I could tell that he had suffered <br />So much during his lifetime. <br />He then replied in a weak and frail voice, <br />'Respect is like love young man, <br />For it is so hard to win <br />And so easily lost.' <br />I nodded in agreement <br />And went upon my way.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/respect-46/
