Tuesday, 1 September 2009

The Tramp

His tousled greying matted hair peeped neath’ his old cloth cap,
his button-less army overcoat too long and overlapped.
Secured by a length, of frayed and knotted picture cord,
helping to defy gravity, with some help, from the Lord.

Sporting some clapped out “trainers” that had seen much better days,
one could have said that they’re buggered to coin a turn of phrase.
his care worn wrinkled forehead, above a pair of bloodshot eyes.
A nervous cough, and raised eyebrows, indicated surprise.

He recalled how he’d once worn his army uniform with pride,
now he was disillusioned ,felt sad and all empty inside.
on his wounded discharge from the army, back to his old address,
he found his wife had left him for someone, much to his distress

Now with the love of his life departed, he was so sad and, filled with despair,
lost his pride and took to the bottle no zest for living, a life so unfair.
And as he sat deep in thought on a park bench, in pain from his wounded back
came a voice of a pretty nurse he’d met, when wounded back from Iraq

In a voice full with compassion and concern at the plight he was in
said how in the name of heaven can they do this to a man like you Jim
They went off in her car reliving the moments they’d spent together
a shower a new suit and a hearty meal transformed Jim’s life forever



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