Eyes That See

Bus stops for some,
rest stops for the weary,
hitching posts for grocery carts,
always at the ready,
an urban luxury for many.

Benches support the waiting,
while sun and wind present airborne reflections,
kaleidoscopic yesterdays broken,
yet always connected.

Golden candy wrappers
dance dervish imaginings
alongside shards of clear plastic,
stained-glass windows floating atop

gutter-motes of air.

How lonely it must feel,
these broken fragments once whole,
wandering aimlessly from street to street,
begging but to be.

But like innocence before the reaper,
the scythe of Time remains sharp,
forever altering life’s movement,
even as human roots bereft of youth
endlessly seek refuge and deliverance

beside the fast lane of litter and irresponsibility.

May it never be forgotten…

Homelessness takes many forms,
forever hovering around us,
mere patience-in-waiting
hoping to arrest complacency
for eyes that see.