Street sleeper.

Street sleeper:

Sunken and hollow eyes.
Everything he owns is worn on his back
and carried in two dirty carry bags.
A transient that has no home.

Wondering the streets and dark back lanes.
His friends are only the alley cats and rats.
Shunned by all that pass him by,
no one will care for his plight.

Searching and scrounging rubbish bins for his next meal.
No shelter shall he have from the wind, the rain or snow.
He has not the comfort of family nor friends.
Wandering the streets aimlessly from day to day.

Searching for a new place to sleep each night.
The ravages of time have been so unkind,
his pale face and dry wrinkled skin;
tell of a broken man without any hope.

Cast away and forgotten by all society.
Plodding on wearily through mud and grime,
counting each agonizing day.
Waiting for a time he will be away from such misery.

The day that will end his isolation,
when he will no longer be destitute.
A time when he will suffer no more,
the time when he must die.

Steven Beesley (c)