A Prayer for Cory

You bustle by,
In your brand new cars.
Looking over your shoulder,
You’re late to the bar.

Smiling cause your model,
Is newer than hers.
He has no coat,
And sitting the curb.

Spinning hurriedly,
With destined imagination.
There are no clues,
To this next generation.

Blindly caught in this
Circus and charade,
You vaguely see his
Life is not a game.

A wintry day he trots,
No coat and no shoes,
No food for himself,
Just singing the Blues.

Won’t you lend him,
Your car or your money?
Maybe a prayer for him,
A Prayer for Cory.