Bright Lights

The city at its ease is a delight.
We are all happier, and thus much nicer
Ready to think our fellows are alright.
At such a time a wondering circumspicer
Might think the city was a heaven, made
By man for man, to better all his ways
And yet there still remain some spots of shade
Hidden somehow from nature's shining rays.
The old man on the corner slumped and sad
The cardboard sign beside him ripped and torn
Telling of the diseases he has had
And all ills that he through time has born.
And as we pass along our merry way
He should not be obscurèd by the day.