(This is a poem that I was inspired to write by watching and observing an old 'Down & Out Guy' early on a wet Sunday Morning. )

To go nowhere, nowhere to go, his pace be painful, dogged slow
He'll stop and look with vacant gaze, as life goes on of empty days

With rambling focus and sluggish step, theres no one cares no one has wept
He falters one way, then another, this way, that way...who cares brother

Some succour given from his fag end, a half fill bottle does comfort lend
Averted eyes that pass him bye, react he does, with weary sigh

Unsteady, fumbling, groping hand, ensures in pocket his bottle stands
To ascertain it's solace source does not spill on, a ground that's coarse

There once were times when things were good, when he a man, a man who could

But now his hopes forever gone, he slowly wanders... on and on.