When the armies of emotion Go out to fight.

Rags

Wicked

winter swirls

and no one’s out

but the 

Spare change beggars

and Shopping cart pushers,

no one 

but the 

worn out

rags

of once before people

bare feet and a

brown paper bag

trundles by  

cart full of possessions— 

raccoon meals.

sitting rags with 

an eye patch and a

disfigured mouth

pleads for that penny

the seams holding his smile up

breaking, falling

garbage eaters,

park bench sleepers,

almost dead

rags

are the dirt 

you hurry through

with sharp heels

Let the snow cover them

don’t look back

or give

them your scarf

some spare change

hot soup

Let the snow cover them

until there is no need

for food

or warmth.

Title Quote: Nick Drake, Cello Song