Peter Furgeson

Another poem about a homeless man I passed in my car but later came back and asked if I could write poetry about him.

Soiled

Unkempt hair

Hangs down over his eyes.

I don't quite think

He wants to see

The world

Or

Have the world see him.

He strides in heavy footsteps

Down the

Uneven sidewalk.

A white 

Crumpled paper bag

He totes

Along beside him.

One hand is gloved

The other

Is bare and dirty.

I cannot make out

The color of his eyes

Or the shape of his face

Completely.

The bend in his elbows

Looks painful,

But, it's a bit difficult

To tell for certain

Under is very

Oversized coat.

He waits impatiently

For the cross walk light

Only then crossing

When his signal

Finally illuminates.

I peel my eyes

From his now distant figure

As my light

Shines emerald

And I begin

To accelerate

Down mainstreet.

Reviews

[Liz]

Such an interesting storyline here. Sad but inspiring at the same time.
And its quite amazing that you were able to go back ask the man if you could write a poem about him.
Good write.