Just sitting at the computer
I saw an old man die tonight.
His distant, hazy eyes frozen under the
florescent glow of street corner light.
A homeless manís life he had led,
sleeping in damp alley ways
never in the comforts of a bed.
His clothes tied on with nylon bands
clutching ever so tight,
to the two dimes in his hands.
After the old manís last breath
I heard the ravenís call
and felt the silence of death.
The old man had merely ran out of time,
it could happen to us all. So,
with little else to do, for no reason nor rhyme,
I reached deep into my pocket and
into the old manís hand I dropped one last dime.
understanding is misunderstood