He became anonymous
A huddled figure
By the bridge
His companions
Rats and smell
Sleeping bag
Hair unkempt
Merely a shell.
He half slumbers
Semi dream
In his mind
His life before
Wife and children
A good job
Circumstance
Closed the door.
He hasnt seen
His children
But he remembers
Bitter sweet
Their birthdays
And each Christmas
Before he landed
On the street.