The Footpath Man Poem by Stephen Styris

THE FOOTPATH MAN

An early morning street of a bitter-cold winter,
Numerous lips sipping coffee trying to farewell the shiver,
Soft sunrays now touching the old grey hair
Of the poor old man sleeping in the broken footpath there…

One at first, and slowly the second,
The poor man sat and his eyes now wide opened,
His imagination still caught in the frozen hands of sleep,
But He gave him two hands less, and hence, comfort he couldn’t keep…

Passersby come and pass by, from morn to night,
Plenty many looked and plenty many sighed,
At the poor and pathetic sight,
But none ever cared to share with him a little light…

So was he born, and so he lived,
So he spent his days, and so he died…

By,
Stephen Styris,
B.A. IInd Year,
Bongaigaon College, Bongaigaon, Assam
Phone: +919435590923, +919854337825, +919854337824
E-mail: stephen_styris@yahoo.com