With impatient haste
And heartless mood
I pass a pitiful beggar
On Waterloo Road.
Callous yet cautious,
I quicken my pace
To avoid this sorry heap
Of outcast waste.
The stench of alcohol and urine
Punctures the evening sky.
I glance at his warped face,
And meet his lifeless eyes.
From tobacco-cracked mouth,
With garbled diction,
The tramp murmurs words
Of kindly recognition.
Suddenly he beckons me,
As an old friend might,
With words of welcome,
Hushed and polite.
“You scroungin’, too?”
He says in a muted sigh.
An agitated “No”
Is my insulted reply.
“Forgive me,” he mutters,
With regretful modesty,
“I meant no offense
To you, friend. Honestly.
Just,
‘Cos if you was,
I’d’ve given you my sandwich.”
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Haven't written in a while (or visited the forum, for that matter, to my shame!
), so comments on this one would be appreciated!Cheers
Al
