Cynthia Jones Poet Rhyme

The Man At the Bus Stop

He sits in the bus cubical 
dressed in tattered clothes, 
he holds a Coke bottle 
filled with something I don't know. 

I can see the pain 
that hides behind his eyes, 
nowhere to go 
the street is his home tonight. 

His hair is all matted 
doesn't look like it was brushed, 
a scruffy beard on his face 
passersby never made a fuss. 

His hands are all dirty 
his face is too, 
he sits there peacefully 
as there is nothing else to do. 

My heart goes out to him 
as he is homeless beyond compare, 
it hurts my soul 
just to see him sitting there. 

Copyright © Cynthia Jones 
Apr.20/2005

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Anne-Lise Andresen January 10, 2015 at 5:40 AM - A touching poem, Cynthia - Lonely in a wood, no love ...... (only his "friend the bottle") - I wish you a great weekend - oxox // Anne-Lise :) Cynthia Jones January 10, 2015 at 6:56 AM Anne, I felt sorry for him. Most homeless here in my city get made fun of and picked on. Not a second glance from anybody on this day. Thank you so very much for stopping by to have a read and leave a comment. I truly appreciate it. Thank you. I will. You have a great weekend as well. *S* Cynthia

John Fleming January 9, 2015 at 7:03 PM Very touching, Cynthia! You can feel the poor mans loneliness. :-) john. Cynthia Jones January 9, 2015 at 7:48 PM I was on the city bus, when I happened to see this man in the bus stop cubicle. Yes. You sure can feel his loneliness. Thank you so very much for stopping by to have a read and leave a comment. I truly appreciate it. *S* Cynthia