An Unlikely Hero
The dawn erupted in a shower of orange and gold
Greeted by a sleepless eye, huddled on a bench against the cold.
A tattered jacket’a filthy hat’a soleless shoe.
His was a name that no one knew.
Beside him lay a bottle, it had become his only friend.
He tipped it back, finished it off, then sighed a grizzled grin.
He stumbled to his feet, steadied himself, then began his trek.
Off into the concrete wilderness’again’to sacrifice respect.
He made his way to the mission where there were others of his kind.
Each with a sullied tale, all with a troubled mind.
He did his best to choke down a bowl of stale oats,
Then pillaged through a collection of weathered and discarded coats.
Humanity’s compassionate offering for the very least of these.
Nonetheless, he was grateful for his tarnished treasure and with it pleased.
He stepped into the street turning his back against the cold.
Afterall it made no difference in which direction he strode.
On he trudged clinging to ever fleeting hope.
There would be no drink this night, it was the weather with which he had to cope.
Up a shadowy stairway he spied an abandoned cot.
At least for this night in life this would be his lot.
Sleep had become a familiar stranger to the man
But on this night he drifted off’then a dream began.
A face he had not seen in what seemed a lifetime’she touched his cheek and he responded in kind.
A touch that held all the worlds treasure, a touch by which all others were measured.
Just when he dreamt it was the best it could be,
He heard the sound of children playing gleefully.
In a house set upon a flowered plain, near a town of which he recalled the name.
A perfect life’in a perfect time.
Within his dream he dreamed’again’tis mine.
Outside in the neon night of the city,
People hurried about their lives with no pause for sympathy or pity.
For one forgotten soul there would be no more dawns.
In peaceful sleep’on a stormy night’an unlikely hero has gone.
Charlie
