He Walks Alone

His shift had just ended, early morning, half past four. His days at this bar he wishes to come to an end. Wandering the streets on his way home, into darkness, alone, This lonely young fellow would love the comfort of friends While walking and counting his tips from this night He still managed a dream or two about a new life in all. But Robert, his name, resists his life’s many changes, Comfort is what he truly wishes for, so remains deaf to the call. See, there was a time, when he was the best at his game. He was an artist of sorts, some would say Street corners were his venues and passers by, the audience. They would stop and marvel at the games he would play. For a few measly dollars, he would entertain and connive Three cards in his hands were all he ever really needed Until that one fateful day, he took the fall for friend. He did time for him while his friend had succeeded. Now back in the world, it was three years and six months later, Robert had a new chance in life and was giving it a go. Here he is, not the man he once was, but an honest man, Leaving his shift this early morning, walking in the snow. Those dreams of making that one big trick, the brass ring, Kept him going, if just for the moment and though wrong. He knew, in his heart he must take the right road now Or, he’d up back where started, where he doesn’t belong. So, an honest man now, just making a meager living, But still ever so able to hold his head high, Robert lives with his choices and regrets not a one And continues his walk as the snow falls from the sky.