Unseen man

Unseen Man

He sits by the steps of the market, it has
deep doorways, sleeps there when it rains;
plastic bags of cast offs, guards them well.

He’s as a rock in the stream; people pass
him, on either side, on the way in to buy
food, yet as water, blind to his presence.

He has seen me seeing him, he’s glad and
smiles, his loneliness is cosmic I can read,
in his tired eyes, his burden will soon end.