He shuffles in snuffling
I see that the cold
has got to him.

Tea for to warm his bones and
a seat to complete his rest.

It's not so unusual these days
to see the luckless to whom
the Lady of Luck never pays.

Signs of the times?
if so
we corrupt them in couplets
and rhymes when it should be
doublet and hose
for the warriors
within

the man who shuffled in
goes
and another soul
takes his place

same look on her face
it could be his twin or
it might be a friend of
mine
shuffling in.

At the sharp end of the stick
it becomes harder to pick
yourself out of the gutter.

Thank God it's not me
sitting there
drinking tea
wondering where or how
never thinking blue sky
only wondering why

and why is the question we answer with
Why?