Ice tipped grass.
Pointing out the sky.
branches naked.
Homeless man sleeps beneath them.
His bicycle propped up against him.
Dirty jacket, stained jeans, black beanie.
The wood underneath half rotten.
Morning keeps him sleeping.
Early walkers pass through.
Observe him by mistake.
Looking away not to meet eyes.
Incase the poor man is awake.
People noone want.
Where do they go?
How do we lift them up.
When they lie in a world of their own.
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