Change
he stands on the busy
sidewalk corner,
dirty,
worn,
tattered,
with Styrofoam cup in hand,
he stares
as you walk by…
as they all walk away
without even a care,
or a sideways glance,
they quicken
their
steps in hast
as if he can’t see you…
he lingers in his stance,
trying to make
just
enough change
for a hot
cup
of
coffee
in hopes of staying warm
through the cold night
after the passing crowds
dissipate,
the sun sets in darkness…
he hangs his head in sorrow
as his cup remains empty…
he travels along the
lonely,
dark
road
until light flickers from
fires built in trash barrels
his tiredness
screams
at his body as he once again
takes in the sights of
those without places to go,
he’d heard stories…
one man once was CEO
of his own business
one lady was once a housewife,
now divorced some ten years
the ever popular addict story,
a love
for an ugly habit
gone
wrong…
he continues on to find
an unclaimed spot
for all
the good ones
swiftly
vanish
as the night ends too
soon
and
the chill lingers on
till morn
without a fresh
newspaper blanket
to warm the
flesh of his old
bones
the night air could quickly
take his life
and
leave his clothes
for another homeless person
that shelter knows no
race,
color,
creed,
or education
|
