Old man I see you walking there.
Oh, my dear old man what pulls you into the streets on this cold and rainy day?
Your shame so apparent every time that I say hey.
Your coat pulled about your shoulders, shaking as you freeze,
Walking I can see hurts your aching feet.
Your eyes so very broken your spirit gone and waned,
all life that you once had, has vanished now all drained.
Let me help you with your bag, let me help you cross the street,
Please at the very least, let me stop and greet.
Karen Hayward ©2016