CENTRAL PARK STORY- Jeff Braverman & Jonathan Rimberg
Sitting on a sidewalk,
Leaning on a bench,
In a cold Central Park,
It was just before dark when I saw him.
Under an oak tree,
Snow was falling,
So wet, felt like rain,
And I stood there afraid as he beckoned.
“My blood is red,
And my eyes they run true blue,
After all is said, I’m not much different than you.
But, me, myself, I’ll just sit here and pray to my G-d.
And I’ll say,
I don’t want to be hungry no more.”
So I sat right down,
Next to him on that cold ground,
And I asked him his name.
Around his neck was a chain.
It read, in Hebrew, “Yoseph”.
Then he saw my stare
and responded with a glare,
“I hate to taint your pretty dreams.
I guess you’ve never seen a Jewish man
without a home.
Once I was rich and I thought that I had it all
Never recognized that it could crash
And I would crawl.
So me myself, I’ll just sit here
And pray to my G-d,
And I’ll say, I don’t want to be lonely no more.”
Then he slowly rose and said,
“I’m sorry, I must go,
For where I’ll sleep tonight
I really just don’t know.
Next time you pass another one just like me,
Don’t prejudge what you can’t see,
We’re not bad, just unlucky for the while.”
People seem to care so much more than they.
And their words and deeds often end up misconstrued.
So me myself, I’ll just say,
“They don’t want to be homeless no more.”