Spare Change
spare change
he takes shelter in a cardboard box
old newspapers for a bed
threadbare clothes rumpled and dirty
a concrete pillow for his head
picking up used cigarette butts
from the crowded littered street
dumpster diving for table scraps
searching for something to eat
huddling in an open doorway
on a cold cold winter’s night
battling to keep warm
swiftly losing the fight
asking hurried passers by
if they have change to spare
no one gives a second look
no one seems to care
a salty tear rolls down
his ruddy weathered cheek
what has happened to his life
that it became so very bleak
March 5, 2020
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