In the city everything is a blur
People are rushing to and fro.
Within the concrete city
Of concrete buildings,
Concrete walls,
Concrete floors,
There is a park.

In the park everything is a blur
People are rushing to and fro.
Within the concrete city
Inside the green park
Of green buildings,
Green walls,
Green floors,
There is a park bench.

On the park bench sits a man
His body weak, his spirits weary.
Alone.
His eyes are cast to a cup
Which sits at his feet
Empty.

Some passers look
And some look away.

Yet, all rush on
In the blur
Without a coin
Nor a smile
To offer the man
Who sits
Alone.

I wonder if
The world has forgotten,
Or perhaps left behind
The man
Who sits
In the blur
On the park bench?