BENCH

A day when only birds sang
A beard a week old
Blisters that webbed toes
A bowl of given soup.
A coldness that ate the shreds
Of what remained of dignity
Cigarette butts rolled together
By ice bitten fingers.

A society which had forgotten
That once he smiled
Not the dishevelled dispair
Hair unkempt and rain glistening
Upon the weathered face
Of a real victim
As life walks on by
Ignoring its true children.