He's quite an unexpected sight
when you see him on the street, 
with a top hat on his head,
tattered shoes upon his feet.

His trousers, ripped and torn,
with their threadbare knees
don’t seem to match his jacket
with leather on the sleeves.

And though his face looks haggard
and he wears a scruffy beard,
he’s as gentle as a lamb, they say,
nothing in him to be feared.

I’ve heard so many stories,
they say he once was rich,
now he lives on pauper’s pennies;
sleeps curled up in a ditch.
                
You’d never know by looking 
that he felt worse for the wear,
he’ll raise a hand in greeting
to anyone who’ll care,

And when he smiles, it radiates
with a sparkle in his eyes,
it’s evident his heart’s as big
as the deep blue Texas skies.

Although I’ve often wondered
how he got to where he’s at,
I always feel a warmth inside
when I see his old top hat.


july 2004
© Janet Reid