I jotted down the poem below one day as I sat inside a cool office building waiting to see my attorney. As I sat there Looking out the picture window, an old man caught my attention. I watched the man shuffle along the sidewalk making his way toward the bus station which was at the end of the block. He didn’t meet the eyes of passing strangers, and the strangers pretended not to notice him. I wondered where he was going, if he even had a place to call home. He stopped to rest on the bench at the bus station and when he sat down, a young woman got up and walked quickly toward the bus station entrance. He noticed her sudden departure and dropped his head into his hands. I don’t know what became of this man since he was gone by the time I had finished my business. I scanned the sidewalk full of people scurrying along, and looked up and down the scorching street. There was no sign of him. I went on about my day, but I often wonder about that weary old man. I hope he found a place to rest.

When the night falls down
And the day is born
The past just fades away
And somewhere in between the two
A stranger makes his way.
Another life forgotten
Born from innocence his past,
Stumbled steps to get here
He wears an old brave mask.
Pondering the life he lives
A stranger with no home
Grasping for a ray of light
From inside an empty tomb.


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