The Doorway
He sat in the doorway of the empty shop
Daily for so many years
Unwashed and foul smelling
Often the object of disgust and sneers
He held out his old enamel cup
To make a dollar or two
To buy a little food and drink
Just to get him through
His face was worn and weathered
Though his eyes were a beautiful blue
A handsome face he still possessed
Despite the toll and hardship his body knew
I often wondered about his story
How he came to have no place to call home
I would never know the reason
The doorway lay desolate and alone
Copyright © Deb M | Year Posted 2022
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