Sand Of Time Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Sand of Time
I was on my way to the doss house near the railway station,
it was quarter to eight -had to be in by eight or lose my bed-,
when I saw her in the restaurant talking to her brother, they
shared a bottle of wine. My god, she was as beautiful as ever.
And since it was dark outside I reckoned she didn’t see me,
her brother looked out; perhaps he recognized me because
he bent towards her and whispered something, but before
she could look up I had disappeared into shadows. It was now
ten to eight I ran to the doss house run by The Salvation Army.
I could only have a shower once a week and had been wearing
the same suit for a long time. It was a grey worn suit, but it gave
me a sense that I had some dignity left. However deep a person
falls, he can get up again and in time buy a new suit. This evening
remembering my time of wretchedness, and it struck me I can no
longer remember her face.