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The rustle of dried up leaves
No welcome sound to ancient ears
Another season comes to an end
Autumn’s gone, as winter nears

How he hates the cold, dark days
When the wind whips through his bones
How he longs for summertime
When warmth is offered, as his home

Cardboard walls, no privacy
Kicked about by strangers feet
Unaware, that he lives there
To them it’s just another street

On days where he can stand the cold
He sits, bundled in a threadbare coat
Hoping they’ll notice how hungry he is
Carefully reading his scribbled note

Most will only smile, in dismay
Not really knowing what they fear
And he sits on the sidewalk, outside his box
As his darkness draws another tear


©2017 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0