The Tramp

Written by: Ken Duddle

Shuffling, shuffling, the tramp shuffles. One shoe too big, one shoe too tight. Shuffling, shuffling, from dawn until night. Pausing at bins, fingerless gloves. Searching for scraps with a hungry eye. A few cold chips, a half-eaten pie. City gents pass, avoiding a glance. Afraid they might see, A glimpse of things of what could be.. They told him to buy, to buy a house. To buy some shares, riches to seek, to tread on the scum walking the streets. He lost his job, the shares went bang. His wife left him for a richer man. He had no family to lend a helping hand. So he shuffles, wearing his home close to his body just to keep warm, shuffling the streets, night until dawn.