Morning, signified by the streak
of sunlight across his squinting eye.
Wishing, looking up with disdain,
for the return of the night sky.
Alone, but for the gleam, he speaks
with no one to listen, no one to hear.
He wonders aloud…
would anyone notice should I disappear?
Trained ears hear the distant sound
as church bells begin to chime,
reminding his empty being
that soon it will be time.
The familiar, pleasant voice
greets him at the door.
Still, the shame is unavoidable
as his eyes focus on the floor.
The brown bag makes a crinkling sound
firm within his grip.
Gingerly he peers inside,
knowing it was worth the trip.
Digging past prepackaged food
given for his nourishment
he finds the slip with written word
offered for his encouragement.
Drinking in the words of love,
inhaling them like fresh air.
This was just the sustenance he needed,
a friendly voice and a prayer.