Any Spare Change?

Feet wet inside my purple trainers, all I needed was a new umbrella.

Walking fast in the morning rain, he looked up at me, from the ground in pain, shook his paper cup, any spare change?

The sky was cruel, the heavens open.
We both looked up, as the cold rain kept falling.
‘Is there no where more sheltered?’ I asked deflated.

‘No’ said he, ‘here all night, phoned for a bed, they said not tonight.
Come get a sleeping bag.’
‘Disgraceful’, said he.

My trainers were wet.
My umbrella broken.
This man under no roof, was truly, cold, soaked and broken.

I forgot to ask him his name, the wet man in the rain, as I dropped useless coins in his wet paper cup of pain.

Feet wet inside my purple trainers, all I needed was a new umbrella.
What he needed; someone to save him.

An Peann

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