Ruan Burke - The Vagrant

His walk an awkward shuffle,
hands in pockets deep,
shoulders hunched against the cold
wondering where to sleep.

His clothes are torn and ragged,
his coat is sparse and thin,
no good against the cold and wet
he was soaked through to the skin.

The autumn fog grew thicker,
the tired old head was bowed.
A mangy dog stepped in his path,
bared its teeth and growled.

It's body thin and wasted,
the shine gone from it's eyes
but as the old man looked he saw
hope flutter and then rise.

The vagrant searched his pockets
there was just a piece of bread
it should have been his supper but
he fed the dog instead

The pair then walked the drizzled streets
two friends side by side
the partnership brought inner warmth
inner strength and pride

They found an old bus shelter
and curled up for the night
the dog in it's new masters arms
they huddled there till light

At dawn a workman found them
he shivered then he sighed
The sudden frost had been too much
both man and dog had died.

Ruan Burke

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-vagrant/