He stands on every corner waiting for his name to one day be called.
Standing up for to long, hope he doesn't fall.
His fragile bones are weakened by despair.
Hoping some day, someone really cares.
He travelled miles to get where he is today.
Some day, he must find a place to stay.
Making home, feel like you belong there.
Making home, outside the open air.
His dusky footprints leave a mark on everything he feels.
Is he really out there or a spirit lurking through the fields.
Does anyone really know if this man is real.
Smokey nights, and mournful unprotected troops cautiously surround the streets.
A foggy shadow, slowly fades away, for all to meet.
This man appeared in spirit, all eyes were on him, as he faintly disappeared.
The town was powerless in that moment they feared.
They will never forget the man on the corner, he undoubtedly was here.
There was a whispering voice, who chose to bring fear.
His presence was marked in the clouds that " I was here!"
©terrylin53
T