Black Bag and a Coat of Brown

February 17th, 2005

This man I see with a coat of brown
There's no name that he claims
Just smiles and walks around town.
I wonder, just who, just who he may blame?
A black bag he carries on his back
Who is this guy and what is his game?
He never answers or tells what he lacks.
Just walking and walking he
Rarely sits down but to watch all
The people go 'round the city.
Not very large but fairly tall
He ne'er troubles himself with things,
Except for the bag, nor does he call
To anyone who may be passing.
Sitting one day, I watch him pass by
With his black bag and coat of brown
And I watch him in sly
Like many who see him 'round town.
To the garbage he goes and reaches in
And into his bag he puts the good down.
What do I do? Do I tell of his sin?
No, I sit very still and watch him continue
Inspecting the treasures so carelessly tossed.
My beautiful, scenic, no-obstructed view
Of this simple, peaceful man seemingly lost
In the shuffle of day to day life
And all the trauma and pain of cost
Just trying to get by without strife.
My heart goes out to him, this man
Who is walking away from me now
Unaware of my observance. I have no plan
Of what to do to bless or change. How
Can I go back and try to live down
My life full of clutter to which I bow?
Walks away the bag and coat of brown.

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