it's the old guys that really get to me

he stood,
stooped and slightly tilting
hair mussed, greying and thin;
digging through a bag of someone's discarded clothing,
furtive, proud,
his pants a bit too short, socks mismatched,
yet he smiles, suddenly to himself,
as he spies a hidden treasure
a muffler someone threw away,
gold and blue, and oh, wait,
a hat, a blue hat.
it fits.

he stands up straight, shoulders back
notices my gaze and says
hello darlin', would ya look at this?
pointing to his find.

nice, i say, and how are you this morning,
can't complain, he says
besides, no one would listen, anyways.

sleeping bag under one arm,
he tosses me a wry smile
and walks off to greet the sidewalk.

be kind to him today;
i say to no one and everyone
in particular.