A Homeless Man
Sadly, he has no place to go!
But all the time to get there;
Perhaps, his fate. For a long time
He’s been a rootless wanderer!
No links to keep him grounded,
Lonely, alone; here and anywhere!
A few possessions to his name
And friends, he has fewer still…
Family he has; he’s forgotten where;
No means to see them, nor the will…
And so his name remains unspoken
Never written with pen or quill…
A forgotten man living in shadows
Under bridges or under the stars
With plastic bags for pillows…
An old coat reeking of smoked cigars,
To keep him warm on wintry nights;
And a bottle of gin from nearby bars…
I see him in many street corners,
Or perhaps someone just like him;
Washing windshields for a pittance,
In early morning; while it’s still dim
As he flashes a mirthless grin
At strangers’ faces; looking grim!
Often I wondered what lurks behind
Those sad eyes; the rhyme and reason
That shaped his melancholy life…
Was it luck? Or a life freely chosen?
For when I look into his doleful eyes
Many a time, I see my own reflection…
Were it but for the grace of God,
A roof exists, always o’er my head
Food on the table, clothes on my back…
But in my life, happiness has fled
Emotionally homeless; virtually alone
And all that I feel, often left unsaid!
12-02-2015
© Vic A Evora
This story is fictional. It is NOT about me even though I chose to write it in the first person. I did that to juxtapose the two characters, and illustrate their differences, or lack thereof. One is physically homeless, destitute, down on his luck, and all alone. The other is emotionally bankrupt, virtually alone, battling demons in a world all his own. I feel sorry for both of them.
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