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1 I could see him in the doorway looking tired clothing frayed, I really did feel sorry for him would probably soon be in his grave. “Here” in voice so gruff he summoned me to his dingy doorway home, lying on a cardboard bed he said “Can ya spare a pound”. I sat down on the step beside him and asked him “Whats your name”, and with a twinkle in his eye he said “I am Donald James kilbain”. I asked him how a man so “dignified” ended up this way, he said “I lost me wife and children then I lost me job and so here I am today”. He reached into his pocket and removed a ***** piece of rag, slowly he unfolded it and said “this is a photo of me Mum and Dad”. Then he showed the other one saying “this is....was! me wife and kids, they all died in a fire you see it broke me and put me on the skids”. He then returned the pictures, so carefully he folded up the rag kissed it twice and told me he would give his right arm for a *** As I opened up my wallet he leant across and said “who’s that”, I told him it’s my family he said “lucky man, mine were just like that”. We sat there for a moment quiet lost in thought, and then he said “forget the pound, come again tomorrow, we can have another talk”. 2 Well time went by, the weeks they passed he was always on my mind, I´d think about his life alone and how life can be unkind. So I took time out to visit him armed with the thickest fleece, the warmest coat and of course... a few packs of his favourite cigs. As I approached his doorway my heart sank to the floor, no sign of Donald James Kilbane... Did he not live here anymore ? I asked around the neighbourhood and every one I met, but no one seemed to want to know or were even bothered where he went. Time went by, the weeks they passed I was down and feeling low, but I would not stop in my quest I´d find the guy somehow. His words they echoed in my mind as the empty streets I walked, his gruff old voice kept telling me, “Come again tomorrow, we can have another talk”. Time went by and more weeks passed, and I arrived back at my start, I sat me down upon his step my hopes now... were fading fast. I sat there quiet lost in thought upon the hard cold ground, then a voice so gruff called to me “Hey buddy, can ya spare a pound” I stayed face down and to myself I smiled the biggest smile, Donald sat down next to me and said “Hey friend, we´ve come a fair few miles” 3 Well time went by, the years they passed and we became the best of friends, the clothes I gave him kept him warm and Donald James was on the mend. He told me of his family how they meant the world to him, and how he missed the Christmas´s and all the love that they would bring. Ten and seven when they died his daughter and his son, his wife died trying to save them when fire destroyed their house of fun. He spoke about the loneliness and the never ending pain, he told me things from deep within how he nearly went insane. So in his mind he closed the doors and simply walked away, the bitter cold that stung his face somehow kept the pain at bay. Twenty years he´d lived the streets and each long year alone, the freezing winters were the worst cold and soaked through to the bone. There was only so much I could do to help this man get by, he was so set in his ways you see he would´nt even let me try. There would be no talk of doctors no talk of getting off the streets, no sleeping on a matressed bed or the feel of freshly laundered sheets. But I worried so, his cough was worse his breathing got so shallow, the years outside had took their toll his frail old body out of ammo. 4 I could see him in the doorway as I approached him that next day, lying motionless and quiet... in the cold of night he´d passed away. It hit me hard I´d lost a friend one Donald James Kilbain, who really did deserve a better life a life without the hurt and pain. I often think about him and that twinkle in his eye, and what his life could have been if his loved ones had´nt died. We had him buried with his family and now he´s resting safe and sound, but before they closed his coffin in his right hand....I placed a pound.
0
Nov 19, 2019
Nov 19, 2019 at 1:13 PM UTC
The Ballad Of Donald James Kilbain
1 I could see him in the doorway looking tired clothing frayed, I really did feel sorry for him would probably soon be in his grave. “Here” in voice so gruff he summoned me to his dingy doorway home, lying on a cardboard bed he said “Can ya spare a pound”. I sat down on the step beside him and asked him “Whats your name”, and with a twinkle in his eye he said “I am Donald James kilbain”. I asked him how a man so “dignified” ended up this way, he said “I lost me wife and children then I lost me job and so here I am today”. He reached into his pocket and removed a ***** piece of rag, slowly he unfolded it and said “this is a photo of me Mum and Dad”. Then he showed the other one saying “this is....was! me wife and kids, they all died in a fire you see it broke me and put me on the skids”. He then returned the pictures, so carefully he folded up the rag kissed it twice and told me he would give his right arm for a *** As I opened up my wallet he leant across and said “who’s that”, I told him it’s my family he said “lucky man, mine were just like that”. We sat there for a moment quiet lost in thought, and then he said “forget the pound, come again tomorrow, we can have another talk”. 2 Well time went by, the weeks they passed he was always on my mind, I´d think about his life alone and how life can be unkind. So I took time out to visit him armed with the thickest fleece, the warmest coat and of course... a few packs of his favourite cigs. As I approached his doorway my heart sank to the floor, no sign of Donald James Kilbane... Did he not live here anymore ? I asked around the neighbourhood and every one I met, but no one seemed to want to know or were even bothered where he went. Time went by, the weeks they passed I was down and feeling low, but I would not stop in my quest I´d find the guy somehow. His words they echoed in my mind as the empty streets I walked, his gruff old voice kept telling me, “Come again tomorrow, we can have another talk”. Time went by and more weeks passed, and I arrived back at my start, I sat me down upon his step my hopes now... were fading fast. I sat there quiet lost in thought upon the hard cold ground, then a voice so gruff called to me “Hey buddy, can ya spare a pound” I stayed face down and to myself I smiled the biggest smile, Donald sat down next to me and said “Hey friend, we´ve come a fair few miles” 3 Well time went by, the years they passed and we became the best of friends, the clothes I gave him kept him warm and Donald James was on the mend. He told me of his family how they meant the world to him, and how he missed the Christmas´s and all the love that they would bring. Ten and seven when they died his daughter and his son, his wife died trying to save them when fire destroyed their house of fun. He spoke about the loneliness and the never ending pain, he told me things from deep within how he nearly went insane. So in his mind he closed the doors and simply walked away, the bitter cold that stung his face somehow kept the pain at bay. Twenty years he´d lived the streets and each long year alone, the freezing winters were the worst cold and soaked through to the bone. There was only so much I could do to help this man get by, he was so set in his ways you see he would´nt even let me try. There would be no talk of doctors no talk of getting off the streets, no sleeping on a matressed bed or the feel of freshly laundered sheets. But I worried so, his cough was worse his breathing got so shallow, the years outside had took their toll his frail old body out of ammo. 4 I could see him in the doorway as I approached him that next day, lying motionless and quiet... in the cold of night he´d passed away. It hit me hard I´d lost a friend one Donald James Kilbain, who really did deserve a better life a life without the hurt and pain. I often think about him and that twinkle in his eye, and what his life could have been if his loved ones had´nt died. We had him buried with his family and now he´s resting safe and sound, but before they closed his coffin in his right hand....I placed a pound.
peter-thomas-balch
Written by
Nov 19, 2019
Nov 19, 2019 at 1:13 PM UTC
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