Kate Bailey

Man On A Bench

Walking through the center of town
You’ll see the same things that I saw,
Including an old man on a bench
Whose life seems to be without a flaw.

He keeps his headphones on his ears
And hums the tune he knows so well,
Ignoring the people who pass him by -
The shops and the things they sell.

He carries bread to feed the birds
And they often gather around his feet.
They can see he is an innocent man
And seem secure when close to his seat.

He breathes some smoke into his lungs
While holding a cigarette between his fingers.
He inhales death but is filled with life.
When he is gone, the smell still lingers.

I often wonder what his secret is
When I’ve see him smiling from day to day.
Maybe one day someone will talk to him
And he’ll show them the way.


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.