As I browse out the window,
Whilst sipping my drink
Watching the Big Issue seller,
I shudder to think
Wondering what his story is?
Who really cares!
Events in his past,
Just why is he there?
Is all that he yells,
In under an hour,
Barely one he sells.
Yet he is there in,
Rain and snow.
For hours on end,
Then off he will go.
Where is home?
Just how does he get by?
You can’t knock someone,
For having a try
The very next day,
He is there once again,
It is bitterly cold,
It’s starting to rain
A smile on his face,
He sells his first copy
Kind lady goes up,
Hands him a free cup of coffee
So grateful he is,
Clenching the cup close to his lips
Gently warming his hands,
As he slowly sips,
Every day he is there,
So many choose to ignore,
He hails once more.
Raindrops keep falling in my life
pitter, patter, pitter patter, trouble and strife
unfamiliar experiences and reactions rife
a body like butter with pain the knife
Life went on 'til illness pressed pause
a reticent role of rebel with a cause
each day now a battle in wellness wars
poetic metaphors dig like devil's claws
An existential journey throwing curve balls
the game of life gives iffy line calls
barriers and hurdles provide plentiful falls
bad days find you climbing the walls
Hearing Carpenters songs wearing a frown
rainy days and Mondays always got me down
Whatever the weather
we ignore it, never
for many an obsession
a form of digression
When meeting a stranger
we fear no danger
providing we tether
ourselves to the weather
Wonder whether the weather
should be called "whether"?
whether rain or shine
the weather's in decline
Whether it's climate change
which Trump seems strange
or whether it's mankind's folly
never visit Manchester without a brolly!
*brolly - umbrella
Paddy was born in the Irish Free State
to Ned, Mary and a sister called Kate
for 13 years County Wexford was home
a rural landscape with freedom to roam
emigration to England and Manchester beckoned
a grand place to find work it was reckoned
a new baby was born, an Irish Mancunian brother
he was christened John by his father and mother
Paddy worked hard for a drink and a song
as humble and honest as the day is long
his favourite tune was Raglan Road
never missed Mass, wherever his abode
England had provided a fresh start
but Ireland remained forever in his heart
accepting, likeable, knowledgeable and fair
always thought of in remembrance prayer