What is left

What is left

Frozen wasteland

Desert plain

Scour me with faint praise

For caring

When all I do is stare

In days gone by

I was a Samaritan

Taking time

To listen

A candle in the window

A welcome mat

Outside the door

A home for strays

Hand feeding the abandoned

A crutch for the needy

You were the traveller

Without a bed

The dog without a home

Who were you

Before the wind changed

Listen to the stories

On the lips of old men

As they mumble

In their sleep

Every one of them

Holds a little piece

Of history

If we pass on by

For fear of changing pace

Losing face

Another chance

To understand

The meaning of disgrace

Is lost