The Drifter Poem by Shannon Chapel

The Drifter

Rating: 5.0


He sits on the sidewalk with his hand out.
He smiles.
His hands are wrinkled and dirty.
So are his clothes.
He’s searching for a friendly face.
He’s hoping that someone will notice him.
People walk past without a second glance.
Most people walk past without a first glance.
Mothers pull their children away from him as they walk by.
I wonder where his mother is?
“Please…” he says,
but she looks the other way.
He stands.
Traffic is stopped at a red light.
He shuffles over to a nearby car and taps on the window.
People begin to honk.
Cars speed away from him.
Watch out!
I rush to help.
“Don’t encourage him, ” a passerby says.
I place my hand on the drifter’s sleeve.
“Let me help you, ” I say.
He looks up at me, this old man.
He has tears in his eyes.
“God bless you, child, ” he says.
This is someone’s son.
This could be someone’s husband.
This could be someone’s dad.
What if this were my dad?
I buy him lunch and a hot cup of coffee.
He thanks me and goes on his way.
I head back to the hotel.
I wonder where he’ll sleep tonight?
The next morning I get up early to catch my plane.
He sits on the sidewalk with his hand out.
He smiles.
His hands are wrinkled and dirty.
So are his clothes.
He’s searching for a friendly face.
He’s hoping that someone will notice him.

(12/4/05)

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Moya Levy 31 December 2005

I enjoyed this too Shannon, I really like how you change your style yet never lose your flow, Moyax

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Cj Heck 06 December 2005

Excellent - you sure know how to tug at the heartstrings. Very well done - especially enjoyed how you ended it with more of the lines from the beginning. Nice touch there. Warmest regards and respect, CJ

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Ray Lucero 06 December 2005

Shannon, You read mine...now I've read yours. Touching story and all too true in most cities. Ray

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Ernestine Northover 05 December 2005

A nice storytellers poem, Shannon, these people make lovely subjects for poems as they provide sadness, joy, feelings, situations, poverty etc., etc., No criticisms, Love Ernestine XXX

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Herbert Nehrlich1 04 December 2005

Naiveté wil get you nowhere. A nice poem though. You describe the situation as if you were taking the reader by the hand. Best H

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