The Tramp

Sad choices

 

 

THE TRAMP

 

 

Shuffling along, watery eyes darting here and there

Coat in tatters, tired feet limping in flimsy footwear

No purpose in life, seeking a corner to rest his head

Dreams long forgotten of a soft and comfortable bed

Begging scraps of food, hoping folks would take pity

Just a seasoned old tramp wandering an uncaring city

 

Wispy strands of grey hair straggled his scruffy neck

As he struggled onwards along the never-ending trek

Reaching a doorway and collapsing in an untidy heap

He gave in to exhaustion and very quickly fell asleep

A few kindly folk dropped pennies by his weary feet

Once awake he smiled and hurried to get a bite to eat

 

For some folks such paths are their chosen way of life

To escape harsh reality, with all its troubles and strife

For others it is bad luck, simply not being able to cope

Never managing to reach the top of the recovery slope

The old tramp is free and somehow manages to get by

It is left to observers to shrug and perhaps wonder why

 

 

 

Reviews

[Dara]

Your poem is timely for me Margaret and speaks volumes. I don't usually give money but just yesterday I saw someone who was so obviously down and out I gave him twenty dollars. He looked so hungry and defeated.

[mags]

Thank you for reading and commenting on my poem. It is much appreciated. Margaret