What he finds,
is what he keeps
Its neither new
or significant to him.
But like everything in this world,
they all have meanings.
From the man who feeds the ducks
in the pond,
on those warm autumn days.
To the stuffed animal
that calms the baby
when their teeth want to enter the world.
His mind begins to fill with wonder.
With stories that are behind each element.
The black sweater with lint in the pockets,
and left over cookie crumbs,
and the corner of a paper in the left pocket
which is no longer there.
Someone’s red leather journal,
perfectly neat, with writing that fills every page.
Though he doesn’t dare read,
preserving all the secrets inside.
Because if fate would have it
he will find this someone and bless them with this journal.
He doesn’t have much.
Not a home to call his own
He waits for the early spring
Days when the winter melts and drizzle drifts to the sky
The clouds burst open giving life
Forcing the bee’s back in their hives
And the bus shelter is his only protection from the rain
When the clouds whisper good-bye
He hears the sound of Marcie’s feet
On time
Always punctual
With a grilled cheese sandwich like mom used to make
From the diner across the street that has old
Floral stickers on the glass window
She doesn’t judge him for what he doesn’t have
Because he too is significant
Like the droplets of water
In this world