You do know not know him,
He remains nameless.
Let us just say
He could be many men.
He watches,
He cannot stand.
Why is he shunned?
The ground around him is littered
With paper,
Old gum,
Dirt,
And bottles -
Empty glass bottles
That smell of wild intoxication.
They are not his,
But they could be.
He shivers again
Where is his coat?
That's right, he used it for rags
Long ago.
He has no coat now.
The people pass,
laughing, talking,
Or just walking.
They do not see him
In his corner,
Shrouded in shadows, in the daylight.
Why should they?
They do not know him.

And the scene blurs.
The dimes, pennies rain on him
But not a downpour.
There are not enough silver clouds for that.
Why does no one help?
Is it the bottles?
Now, for all he knows
They could be his.

A man walks by,
Business suit and cell phone,
Walks by like the world.
But this suited man is touched.
He feels - and stirrings of that emotion
Becoming archaic in the modern world begin.
Pity comes.
He takes the time to smile
At the man in the corner
Shrouded in shadows.
And for that moment, the shadows rise.
The man in the suit opens his briefcase and pulls forth a sandwich
Lovingly made by eight-year-old hands for her adored father.
He leaves the bit of love between two wheat slices,
And walks away
The seated man, who has not quite so many shadows as before
Watches,
As the suited man
Sprouts wings.