ramblings and things

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We always speak when I see him
He's been around for years
You'll not see him for a while
And then he suddenly appears;
Plastic carriers on handlebars
And festooned from its frame
Great moon faced smiling face
As though to him life is a game.
He doesn't say much
Beyond a quiet hi
Spoken to all who
Happen to pass him by.
Sometimes he rides his byke
Sometimes he just pushes
At his own sweet pace
Not for him the rushes
Of my more conventional life.
As I strive to find
What he seems to radiate,
Content and peace of mind.
I wonder what his story is that led
To a life packed in plastic bags
Mysteriously warmly dressed
Never in obvious rags,
Does he have a guardian angel
As he wanders roads and streets
To protect him from the prejudice
I'm sure he so often meets.
An Individual who challenges
The material life of today:
How long before a sympathetic
State goes and locks him away.
Until then we coexist
For he does no one harm
And his great open grin
Has a certain pleasant charm,
As he very competently
Wanders and roams
And we can feel superior
From our nice warm homes.


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