Homeless in Winter: A Ballad

Tossed to the curb by my fellow man
Near dumpsters over-run;
Bound by the stench of rotting cans,
Forgotten by my son.

Unseen, I rest on crumpled pavement
While mind and memory lapses;
My house, my job, and family, figments--
My eyes, but frozen lances.

I’m forced to beg to get my bread
And smile to make a dime,
When even felons get a bed
And meals for their time.

As hoards of yuppies hurry by,
Their eyes eluding mine--
They scoff in anger at my cry
And laugh at my decline.

Meeting ends is getting tougher.
And the potholed streets now hold
Countless more who sit and suffer
In the wind that’s bitter cold.

So here we sit--- too numb to move;
And look up to the sky.
Can this evil be approved?
My soul awaits reply.