I hope this readable.

Written by: Yvonne Marie Savon His dirty face and Cheshire smile will tell you a story if you'll sit for a while About the life he used to live a long time ago before he became the homeless man you now know You might see dirty blankets clothes scraggly and worn but I see something different someone kind and warm He's talented and funny with a heart of pure gold Grateful for lunch and tip money in a quarter fold It's never much a couple, five dollars or more It breaks my heart to see him ignored As he strums his guitar his prize possession I can't always stay for his amazing jam sessions I don't Scurry along or slink across the street 'Cuz that which I've done I've done for Jesus my King “The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me. Matthew 25:40 (NIV)

Sorry I've been absent, my husband Chuck had that stroke on March 23rd and I've been helping him with therapy and rehab. Also we are moving from North Fort Myers FL, to New Brighton, PA (to be closer to family) and let me tell ya, between his shoulder surgery on March 13th, stroke March 23rd and my double hernia it is a challenge!!! We are actually selling everything that won't fit in our Mustang convertible and Mitsubishi Outlander. Anyways... I'm done babbling, I missed ya'll and am going to somehow try to catch up on all this amazing poetry that everyone has written!! I'm also gonna try to get back to writing, I miss it so much!

There is no evidence, they said, of a stroke— not on CT, not on MRI. But I have eyes. All I know is his movements are slower now— more intentional, like the turning of large pages in a heavy book. When he speaks, concentration his dearest friend. His words— methodical, measured. Like thick honey dripping from the comb. And I— I find myself watching his lips like a silent prayer, as he strives to shape a word, his mouth a frantic, holy O— pulling a heavy anchor from the sea. And still— I find them sexy. Maybe… even more than before. Because now each word costs him something, and that— that makes them worth everything.