Do you know him?
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Solitary man
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He rises every morning, the rising sun to greet
With his smoke and morning coffee,
He watches from his window, ‘wakening city streets.
As people hurry back and forth, to be where they should be.

He puts on his old slippers, picks up his walking cane,
He shuffles down into the street, to buy his daily bread.
He wanders out into the road, ignoring all the pain
Ignores the beeping of the horns, and what the drivers said.

Stops off at the Deli’ buys his bread and cheese.
Then stops off at the newsstand, has a talk with Sol.
Feels the freshness on his face, from the early morning breeze.
They talk about the weather, and the latest election Poll.

He shuffles back across the road, to the public phone.
He telephones his daughter, to find out when she’ll visit,
And bring along the Grand Kids, no answer, she’s not home.
He returns back to his little room, not really feeling fit.

He sits back at his window, with coffee cheese and bread.
Listening to the radio, the blues turned down low.
Reads the paper only twice, while has another smoke.
Wishing his kids would visit why not he does not know.

He watches as shadows lengthen across the City Street.
The sun is slowly setting streetlights are blinking on.
The office workers hurry home on swiftly running feet,
As they try to beat the traffic, and the setting of the sun.

He wanders over to his door, and locks it seven times.
Goes and locks the window, the darkness now has come.
He fears the people of the night and all their petty crimes
Reaches beneath his pillow, to find his loaded gun.

Dressed in his pyjamas, he surveys his little room,
Then slips between the blankets, it is time to take his rest.
His heart is filled with sorrow; his mind is filled with gloom
Trapped within his loneliness, a sob rises from his breast.

He is slowly drifting off to sleep, to dream of better times
Of when his Beth was still alive, the children at his feet.
Of younger days, he had a job and lived in better climes.
Within his chest a younger heart with dreams and hope did beat.

No one hears his silent sobs in the darkness of the night.
And no one sees the tears, roll down his ancient cheek
If they did they’d turn their heads, ban him from their sight.
He is just another lonely old man who lives just down your street.

Robin. A. Spicer © February 15th 2004