nbh

His eyes are what I remember.

Brown cap, wrinkled shirt,

tired shoes over dirty socks,

but firm eyes.

They pin me to my seat cushion

and steal my lungs’ air.

They hold defeat

and the power to overcome it.

His sign, “Need Help”, is a declaration of

the courage I lack.

I refuse to ask,

my pride builds brick walls

around me.

He stands on the street corner and

his eyes shout at me;

reminding me

of what I am missing.

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