Nov 2019
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.
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.
