Withered Want

I met a homeless man today by chance,
Who had a hapless life and circumstance,
The morning’s sun not risen all was dark,
A cold wind blew and atmosphere was stark,

A café near and those who were within,
Were rapt in thought as this day would begin,
And little mind to this poor soul outside,
Few moments shared in what he would confide.

He asked if he could share his soulful song,
I let him draw me in I saw no wrong,
What wariness I felt would fall away,
I heard this city’s angel voice today.

But darker angels held this soul as well,
The poorer side of life to him befell,
What meaning could I draw for us to meet,
This lonely man and I on city street.

I knew a couple dollars was the fare,
For song and story that the man would share,
But ghosts will hither haunt my inner mind,
Until there’s withered want for all mankind.

Peter Lowell Paulson

March 26, 2011