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.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: March 16th, 2025 04:32
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 45
- Users favorite of this poem: arqios, Poetic Licence, Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments3
Sadly where our society is at. A truthful image and depiction 🙏🏻🕊
very kind and true, thanking you
You’re most welcome, friend 🙏🏻🕊
A touching write of something that is all to common these days and it should never be homelessness, well expressed
thanking you
You are very welcome
A picture too often seen. A story too often told. A broken person than no one wants to mend. Sad and well said.
much appreciated, thanks
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