The homeless man

The laughter lines speak of happy memories
that he vaguely remembers
from years ago.
Each delicate crease around his mouth
tells a different story
of a distant past
where he would wake early each morning
kiss his wife's salmon lips
and catch the bus to work.

Near the bus stop,
he would hold his breath
to protect himself from the stench of
urine,
left by lazy men and women
who somehow, God knows how
ended up sleeping on the streets.

Then his wife passed away
he sunk into sadness
and refused to leave his empty home.
His post consisted of bills
followed by a heartless
"I regretfully confirm your employment with
us is terminated."

Now, his skin is thick and strong
from being abused by the elements -
but his heart is weak
as he holds out a dirty, tea-stained polystyrene cup.
Frown lines shape his face
and mask his hollow eyes.
He watches the busy men stride past
the bus stop,
shadows of his former self
looking in disgust at the lazy homeless man
who has no where else to go.