Hobo In Alley (Wistful Memory) Poem by Anita Sharma

its beautiful town.
a hobo in dirty gown
He smiled at me
he lives near alley
he kinda smelly
he looked so holy
its shivering cold
snow and rain
never heard him complain
he played violin
gave him watermelon
he said never eaten salad
took him to restaurant
he sang too loud
squawked like crow
people wondered
something artistic
while after am back
looking for hobo friend
guard said
he lost only home
was just the street
he lived out in cold
heard later he died
could have saved
sorrow in my heart