Judging

I walk past this beggar,  once or twice a week,

Sitting in the same spot, smoking, or having something to eat. 

I always think you bludger. 

He's to old to get a job,

But I can't help thinking, he's just a bludging slob.

Today I stopped to talk to him,

And when I looked into his eyes,

All I saw was sadness, much to my surprise. 

He took my gift with Grace,

Never said a word.

Now I sit here thinking, 

What a judging turd.