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Poem

It could not be seen in the shadows.
In his crackling voice couldn't hear.
He once was a man with head held high,
Who sang of a love held so dear.
She was more than a wife and companion.
So much more than a love for all time.
Together they crafted a beautiful poem,
But, she died with his reason for rhyme.

The alleys were home for the beggar,
Where bottles were shattered like dreams.
He wandered around in confusion,
Trying to hide from his terrible screams.
He lost all his faith in the shuffle.
Trust in God was a thing of the past.
But he still had some friends that were praying,
And they wondered how long it would last.

The nights were the best for the beggar.
There was warmth in the visions of her.
He reached out to touch her sweet image
And she wrapped them in love's comforter. 
The chill of December came quickly,
As he curled up into her embrace.
At peace in the dead of the winter,
With a smile that froze to his face.

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