In the creeping halt of cars
When the signal turned red
I saw him on the pavement
There he was that sleeping man
In the blistering heat, On the Bed of stones
I came across him as accidentally as one
stubs a toe on the edge of a table
-and as painfully too-
I wondered who he was, What he had been and
what he had become
Did he have a family? Someone to wake up for?
I also wondered how easily I could pity him;
And not extend the same sympathy to my own self
  But of course the only answer he graced me with
Was his raspy snore, Breathing in and out, in and out
So peaceful. So raw. So oblivious.
I wished him sweet dreams.
The signal turned green and the world was awake and moving again