Homeless Prince Poem by Edwin Baldwin

Four millimeters of tempered glass separates your world
from the Homeless Beggar Prince now standing before you
appearing tattered, torn and trampled on like discarded trash
no longer a viable phoenix rising to escape winter's burn

Merely a grounded mortal traversing icicle stares with an
aged back and fingers that he had once worked to the bone
long forgotten building blocks for a house and a home

Blizzards came tirelessly with every season to wreak havoc upon his
crumbled foundation putting him out into the cold to face the face of our
harsh reality where it's a tundra full of thin ice and a dog eat dog world

Piercing watery eyes reflect upon your hidden self and his frost
laden beard parts to say aloud "If not by the grace of God…there go I."

White knuckles grip your steering wheel tightly as the chill exits your spine
"Thank God! " you exclaim now that the traffic light has turned green