Empty

I opened the refigerator for supper,
but the pickings were slim.
I decided to make coffee,
but the can was empty.
I wanted to pour a glass of milk,
but the carton was empty.
I reached for a smoke,
but the pack was empty.
I figured it was time to run out for groceries,
but my wallet was empty.
I wanted to cry out for help,
but the house was empty.
Then I walked aimlessly down the street.
As I passed a stranger,
he nodded and said hello.
When life is a total loss,
even the smallest tidbit is Thanksgiving dinner.
And as I continued my walk,
I suddenly felt better about things.