Waterloo

Disheveled he was

His hair was askew

He even had different

Colored socks in his shoe

The dirt under his nails

Was softened by dew

That was there every morning

In the streets of Waterloo

Thirty years of his life

Wasted on skid row

Because of the wine

He had no place to go

He scavenged in dumpsters

He ate boiled Spam

But mostly he drank

Whatever wine was at hand

He wore on his shirt

A medal he’d won

In a battle forgotten

In a place overrun

Forgetting was hard

It couldn’t be done

He tried on his own

But he stayed on the run

Life on the streets

Is lonely and hard

Drinking red wine

In an abandoned yard

Day after day

Year after year

Only the wine

Diminished the fear

Finally one morning

He didn’t wake

The red wine his undoing

Finally ended the pain

©4/14/07Terry Sutherland

Sans Peur

Terry