Life suspended in a web-like hammock
the coffee smell not as nostril-curling as in the past
a homeless man stumbles along wet walks
dragging his sorry arse along the splinter lit street
a reflection a sad life in a hard city,
his city a place where he lost his wife and his job,
a home, his family
where he nearly took his own
when things were darker than ebony
and he had to walk his walk alone
A bunch of aggro school kids
too brash and way too loud
disrespect his foul figure on the skids
he had no room to be proud
He seeks a place that’s dry
it won’t be warm,
he knows a place where he can cry
and his aching tears won’t show
© Kait King, 2015
The writer's blogk 