The sound came faintly, growing <br />As he slowly worked the street. <br />A gentle song of unrequited love <br />Sung true to note in a voice <br />That once was strong. <br />The lilting rolling song matched <br />By his lolling rolling gait, moved closer. <br />The Streetsinger came calling <br />Once or twice a year. <br />Never asking, never begging, <br />Just singing, hoping, trusting. <br />Closer now his face reflected <br />Hardship, the ups and downs, and downs <br />Of life lived hard. <br />In someone else’s shoes and shirt and tie, <br />Clean but tired and faded. <br />He wore his broken heart <br />On his shabby shiny sleeve. <br />The song moved on and faded <br />As he worked his way back down the other side. <br />Then stopped. <br />Looked at his meagre coins, <br />Walked sad slow steps away. <br /> <br />Another street. Another song. <br /> <br />We never knew his name but we remember. <br />Did he recall Findlater Street, <br />A young boy holding out a single shiny shilling. <br /> <br />He gave us more than we gave him.<br /><br />Martin Swords<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/one-day-in-mind/
