Tables and Benches

Sleeping on a bench
He is just a child
Growing up alone
Growing to be wild
When he is a man
Haunted by his youth
Look him in the eyes
Tell the bitter truth
Saw but did not act
Knew but did not care
Passed him sleeping rough
Had but did not share
Life is not a game
Life is so unfair
Tables could be turned
What if you were there

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Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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