The sun is shining,
Breeze is warm.
The streets are busy,
That’s the norm.
But on the path,
A guy’s asleep.
His few belongings
In a heap.
The world continues,
Cars drive past.
And yet, for him,
The die is cast.
Somehow, he’s lost
This endless game.
Does anyone still
Know his name?
He had a mother,
Father too.
Where are they now,
His childhood crew?
He lives now
In a silent place –
Invisible,
Yet in disgrace.
How did he get here?
Where to go?
Does anyone
Still care or know?
So, what’s the answer?
What to do?
As I walk past,
I wish I knew.
Stephen Tomkins
5 March 2020
Los Angeles
😊nice poem
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much 🙂
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