A Man In Central Park

A kaleidoscope of colors Pictures etched in chalk He draws not on a canvas But on a worn out cement block He spends his days in the park On a path lined with rock He possesses nothing more Than a tin can full of chalk He wears a T and faded jeans Frayed at all the seams Beneath his worn out sailors hat He carries all his dreams He draws a peaceful valley And horses running free A field of golden poppies Beneath an old oak tree A lady dressed in crimson red Waving a sorrowful goodbye He pauses for just a moment To wipe a teardrop from his eye Everyday you admire his work Then continue with your stride But do you ever look at him And wonder what’s inside His shrouded thoughts and feelings Beyond your visual range Or do you dismiss him as a bum And toss him your spare change He lives each day for the moment Haunted by a wartime past Although he adorns a purple heart He's viewed a social outcast His visions spilled upon the pavement Is what earns his daily bread So rather than pass him by Won’t you give to him instead For it wasn’t all that long ago That he gave to you and me By defending our beloved homeland And keeping America free Judge not this unsung hero For the way he makes his living Many have already condemned his soul Yet this soldier keeps on giving