A Long Fall From Grace

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
There are so many people who, because of the recession, have fallen on hard times. Many who were on top now find themselves on the bottom society. Once had a mansion on a hill, now live in the streets.

Submitted: March 16, 2013

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Submitted: March 16, 2013

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Fog encircling a dimly street light

Footsteps heard in the quiet night

End of the block; two at the most

His misty form resembles a ghost

Head bowed like a priest in a prayer

I ask myself, “Is he asleep leaning there?”

Stands in that spot for several hours

Totally drenched from an evening shower

Crowd passes by without a single glance

He sizes them up while awaiting his chance

Being ignored, he stands there unfazed

I suspect that he has seen better days

Walk towards him; now in clear view

Dirt covers his face; his hair all askew

Like a death row inmate needing reprieve

Body stench makes my stomach heave

We stand face to face; glances exchanged

He seems uneasy asking for change

Clings to his pride, but there’s no need

There is still a hungry mouth to feed

Look into those eyes that spoke of a life

Been a success with children and wife

Excelled more than most; top of his game

Now an empty shell without fortune or fame

Reached into my purse to pull out a ten

Had second thoughts, so I reached in again

Emptied my purse, yet filled with regret

Won’t be enough to redeem self-respect


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