A Friend?

I walk down the street,

no one knows me. 

I’m lost in this city,

this concrete sea. 

The plodding of footsteps,

down a well-lit street.

A little café,

that’s lovely to greet. 

I sit in the café,

and sip on my tea. 

I now have a friend,

who’s talking to me.

We talk long enough,

so I can see,

she’s having the same,

problem as me.

She says, “Goodbye,

I have to go.”

I leave the café,

walking slow…

I walk down the street,

no one knows me.

I’m lost in this city,

this concrete sea.

Here I am

down and out,

asking myself questions about;

the future.

Will any man walk,

where I have walked alone?

Will man have a place,

that he can call his own?

Will man be able

to travel abroad?

And will he keep,

His faith in God?

Will he get

down and out,

and ask himself questions about;

the future?

© David Girard  20/11/73

* This is one of two poems that likely allowed for my marginal success in high school English 11.
I disliked being in high school and English was my least favorite subject.

dg