A down and out occupies a park bench from where he sits and watches the people passing by, Everybody is too busy with their own life to notice his very existence and when he dies nobody misses him, Was he ever really there?
Not one word did the old man speak as he sat huddled on the bench. People came, and people went with the passing of the day. But nobody saw the old man, nobody heard a word, as his parched lips parted to utter words that nobody ever heard.
He gazed through eyes so vacant, you could see inside his mind, but nobody stopped to give him even one minute of their time. People came, and people went with the passing of the day. Still nobody stopped to offer him a morsel or a treat.
He sat hunched up inside a grey coat that had seen far better days, and still the folk passed by him, too wrapped up inside themselves. His scrawny hands gone bony, twitched upon his lap. The holes adorned his trousers like some small child’s dot to dot.
Nobody saw that old man when he walked the streets of London . Nobody heard the old man as he whispered goodbye earth. But the people came, and the people went with the passing of the day, and, nobody seemed to notice the vacant spot where once he lay.
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