Geordie Misplaced Poem by Gordon D Wilkinson

Sitting there with a wizened grin
Hair sparsely planted across his dome
Clear ice blue gaze daring a remark
Two rotting teeth showing in the twisted opening
Wheezing hard as a pair of leaky bellows
Weeks of stubble covered his bulky jowls
Dirt smeared hands and face
Cupping his hands as a bowl
“Spare some change friend”
So comical in his high pitched query
Gasping once again for a lung full of air
Coughing hard, with a rasping breath
“Just need a sarnie mate”
“Maybe a Newcastle too, just to wash it down”
A Geordie, misplaced and lost in London’s street maze
Without thinking, my hands slipped deep into my pockets
Grasping a hand full of coins
Without checking, poured them out
Coins tumbled into his shaking hands
Not missing one from the metal waterfall
Eagerly he scanned over his palms
His slash of a mouth, exploded in a huge grin
Threatening his ears by the grins gregarious cavern
“Thanks marra” he squealed delightedly
Hauling his bulky frame off the pavement
Staggering precariously as he did so
Making a zigzag path to the shops
I stood there smiling inwardly
The thought crossed my mind
There but for good fortune, it could be me