Who's Never There
I see a man upon the street,
Dressed in rags, just nothing neat,
And so I pull him to his feet
And give my greatest-ever greet.
He smiles, hollow in his eyes,
I would be the one who cries,
Shares nothing but the truth, no lies,
A humble sadness amidst the flies.
I shake his hand and hold him near,
"I think there's a neat resturant here
He shakes his head and sheds a tear,
"I deservve it not," he says, "I fear."
Understanding not what's said,
The words erringly spin inside my head,
"I have no home and have no bed,
For I won't rest 'till I'm no more dead."
He, on a mission does gift me
A sense of pure responsibility,
And I will ever remember he,
A tast of something you'll never see.