He sits outside
The Royal Bank of Scotland,
A cheery-looking down-and-out;
His still-young face
Conveys no sense
Of hopelessness
That older vagrants manifest
And I am made to wonder
If he is destitute
As he may seem
In these dire cash-strapped days:
Perhaps it is the bank
That has less wealth
And is more penniless than he
And that his unseen riches
Of street-savvy, honed resilience
Will see him through
While round him, from their pomp,
Once-strong establishments collapse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Have to say I think the guy outside is far richer than any of us because he knows the true value of life and nature...wonderful write Richard...thank you...10+++