I first saw him ‘neath the awning,
Old newspapers for a bed
And he looked like he’d been living rough for years,
On the kerb cockroaches crawling,
In the drain a rat lay dead,
While the drizzle seemed like Heaven shedding tears.
Did he know a mother’s cuddles?
Or a father’s care and love?
Was there wife or child or even friend somewhere?
Now the drizzle’s forming puddles
As the tear-drops from above
Seem to choke the very life out of the air.
Many take him for a ‘loser’
By his clothing and his look
And dismiss him as not worth the time of day,
Call him vagrant, drop-out, ‘user’,
A dole bludger, reject, crook,
They don’t bother to find out why he’s this way.
Did some loss or tragedy
That’s unknown to all but him
So affect him that he left it all behind?
To escape reality
He absconded on a whim—
His attempt to block remembrance from his mind?
Was it maybe that he found
No fulfilment in ‘high-rise’—
There is more to life than living nine to five,
Dumped his suit and went to ground,
As a drop-out now disguised—
Since he left that world he’s really come alive?
Better still he’s been assigned
As an angel in disguise
Is surveying mans’ responses to the poor?
Do we care about mankind
Or our fellow-man despise?
There’s an angel watching you, so you make sure!!
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