Something is everything to he who hath nothing
Shoppers stressfully scurry by, weighed down with over priced gifts
He sits with his head in his hands; alone; unnoticed, adrift.
The merciless rain pounds heavily, like my heart as i stand across the street
He gathers up his blanket, scrambles to a doorway for retreat.
A woman in designer heels spouts at him to get a job
Walks briskly on dismissing him with petty insults of a snob.
Society it is not too blind for one who's sitting there
Just ignorance is bliss, so we don't stop to show we care.
That old rugged, tatty blanket and his battered, well worn shoes
Whatever roads he's walked in life, this one he didn't choose.
I stop inside a cafe, full intent of keeping dry
But thoughts ponder in my mind, of all those who pass him by.
You hear so many stories, of how their money goes on beer
So i figure i shall order just a few things while I'm here.
I wander to the doorway where he's huddling inside
Place a warm drink in his hand and a sandwich by his side.
How did his life result to this? living on the street
At what point did he raise his hands, give up, admit defeat?
Where are the ones who love him? what did he do so wrong?
That a damp and dismal doorway, would be now where he'd belong.
He thanks me for my thoughtfulness with saddened eyes of pain
But I'm just another person...who is passing by again.
