Dining Out

He needed help to get inside
And settle in a chair.
He didn’t need a menu –
Seems he’d often eaten there.

His wheelchair (the electric kind)
Was waiting on the street.
He didn’t seem concerned to leave it
While he’d drink and eat.

Our check arrived, we paid the bill
And bid our friends good night.
I thought about the man inside
Who made it there in spite

Of all the obstacles he had
To navigate from home.
The least that I could do is pay
Him homage in this poem.