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Lucky Man

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I was dirty, tired. My stomach ached from starvation. I sat on a rock, in the meager shade of a tree, hoping to escape the harsh rays of sunlight which parched my mouth and burned my skin. Another homeless man laid on the ground across the street. He no longer cared about the sun. He laid in it and slept. Sleep was the only escape from this world now. I tried to stay awake during the day. It was the only way I would ever be able to ask for philanthropy from any kind soul. As I sat, thinking about where my next meal would come from and what I would do when I consumed the water in this bottle, and as I prayed to God for a miracle, and angel approached me. She had short black hair, the kind Audrey Hepburn made famous. Her eyes were the color of chocolate. Oh, how long it had been since I had tasted that luxury. Her skin was the same shade as my wife's had been, a pale olive tone, before she died from old age. The angel handed me two cinnamon rolls, two energy bars, and a cold soda, then laid her hand on my shoulder.

With a smile, she said,“Good luck.”

“God bless you, sister, I'm starving. I'm such a lucky man,” I exclaimed with a grin.

She smiled, stepped back into her car, and went on her way.

God had blessed me with an angel, the most beautiful angel I had ever seen, and all I could think of was the song, “Lucky Man,” by Emerson Lake and Palmer.



White lace and feathers

They made up his bed

A gold covered mattress

On which he was laid

Oh, what a lucky man he was.

Oh, what a lucky man he was.


I knew that one day I would have to lay down and die like the man in the song. Philanthropy would not keep me alive forever. But until then, I would thank that angel because I was, am, and will always be a lucky man.



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