Inability to Express

The sadness of poverty and its effect on us

I have failed to explain
describe
say
Too many times to count.
To what did this amount

I remember fallen crumbs
remainders of my meal
nourishment.
The coffee warm in my hand
Change in my pocket jingling as I stand

I feel the safety of my coat
as the wind buffets
me.
My mind pondering as I walk
I do not even hear him talk

Sir
I stop.
Turn.
Look.

It is cold
He shows it. 
I feel for a coin. 
Extend my hand.

Rough fingers touch me
I feel their history
pain
His eyes meet mine
Our thoughts seem to intertwine

I understand
now. 
I feel there is more
than what I am.
This man.

I take my leave
changed
altered
The wind feels colder.
And I think of him