A Vagabond Fable. Poem by Warren Atherton

Stopped saying your prayers?
Ask if anybody cares.
You live your life sublime
Just as I once did live mine.
Your table-top the street,
And hobble on calloused feet;
That back that once held straight
Now arches fierce with hate.
Your staff to yield some ease,
Support arthritic knees.
And coat upon your back?
You wrought from an old coal sack.

Ask for a penny, beg for a dime,
Still the same snap of 'I aint got the time! '.
Emotionless gazes from passer-by eyes
Whilst you grimace on life and all of its' lies.