With a dream filled flask
In an absent set mind,
His thoughts were at a stand still
-of time.

His beard long, matted and Grey
His thoughts old, fading, distant,
And aged.

His home was wherever he roamed,
His flask of dreams, is all he owned.

His well worn shoes covered his feet,
His abused heart, covered his sleeve.

I seen his blackened smile everyday,
Good morning, I'd reply as I walked away.

The same park bench every morning he'd lay.
Letting the chirps awaken his stay.

His name I did not know,
His life's road I did not know,
His morning story,
Was a man with a heart of gold.