Old Friend

When I looked up he smiled at me,
the old man in the autumn of his days;
At once I no longer felt alone.
It was his smile..
as deviod of teeth as it was filled with love.
I realised there and then,
that I've just made a new friend.

A Poem for Nobody.

(Published in 'Harvest of a New Millenium' 2005)

Who would remember a babe born to bear no name
without a heritage, without a home, just abundant pain.
He would stuggle, he would grow, against all odds
to become a boy.
Then who would remember the little boy
whose name is unknown
the world has shown him naught but hatred and scorn
He'd learn to live, he'd have to survive:
One must stay alive.
He has become a man and yet no-one cares
His call for help unheeded,
he remains alone
unwanted, unknown and un-needed.
As life escapes his bones,
the mirrors tell him he's getting old
and time mocks him "your story's untold".
"At last", he says "here comes the end"
and before he finished, he lay dead.
Even in death he found no home,
nothing to love, to claim for his own.
Now he's nothing but a pile of bones
rotting under an unmarked stone.