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
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