On A Cold Slab Of Concrete

i was reading poetry in my head
as the bus aquaplaned
along the city’s quays
heading for the train station
with little time to spare
but i remember
the bus was smelly
wet clothes over damp
bodies
stale perspiration
escaping
then the bus stopped
he lay motionless
by the entrance
on a cold slab of concrete
homeless!
he face buried in the collar
of his coat
i felt a shiver up my spine
seeing
his broken body pressing down
i thought the ground might
swallow up his pain
but it didn’t
a beard cakes his face
his clothes look rough and
ready
yet, he seems contented
as he dreams of happier days
tomorrow they’ll be forgotten

By Paolo Michell

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About pmisteil

Hi, my name is Paul though I write under other names like, Thatcher and Paolo, I love literature, art and architecture their passion and drama....the contradictions. The notion of Truth-who is the person behind the mask? Or does it matter! I like long walks and longer conversations over cappuccinos in a cafe with atmosphere and the rest is a journey!
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