Categories > Original > Poetry
The Walker
0 reviewsThere's this homeless guy who I always see near my block... i have no idea what he thinks about... but it's definitely something
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He’s always going somewhere
Striding by the highway, as others hurry by
Strolling the alley in the 3am moonlight
He is the walker
His sneakers, past their sneaking days, assault the gravelly road
As he paces past the Memorial for dead men long ago
His eyes are on his barrow, empty today
His watery gaze a camouflage
For a mind concealed from the world
He marches down the highway while we just take the bus
Today he had his wheelbarrow, piled
High with an untold story of flattened cardboard
The bystander saw a pile of empty boxes
He doesn’t tell us what he sees.
One day he’ll find his somewhere
But I won’t know when or how
For there’s only one of him to me, but
To him, we’re all just them.
To him, I am nobody.
Striding by the highway, as others hurry by
Strolling the alley in the 3am moonlight
He is the walker
His sneakers, past their sneaking days, assault the gravelly road
As he paces past the Memorial for dead men long ago
His eyes are on his barrow, empty today
His watery gaze a camouflage
For a mind concealed from the world
He marches down the highway while we just take the bus
Today he had his wheelbarrow, piled
High with an untold story of flattened cardboard
The bystander saw a pile of empty boxes
He doesn’t tell us what he sees.
One day he’ll find his somewhere
But I won’t know when or how
For there’s only one of him to me, but
To him, we’re all just them.
To him, I am nobody.
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