A man lay dying in the street, as people passed trying not to meet,
His eyes that stared in desperate hope, knowing that his body could no longer cope.
He tried to speak but no words could he say. His lungs were empty, they were giving way.
He’d been a player. He’d lived a life. Who would now tell his wife?
Who would bother to find her though? Left his side a long time ago.
Perhaps his clothes confused, those that passed and were not moved.
Or, perhaps the smell that emanated, from his body small and emaciated.
A tramp was he, and no one cared, as he laid with no wealth to be shared.
No well-known name, no celebrity status, no family, nor friends to make a fuss.
He died that day, spreadeagled there, as people passed without a care.
Just another man who’d lived and died, without a single tear being cried!
Anything But Hackneyed…Amazon.com
Anything But Hackneyed…Amazon.co uk