Life under a bridge

Poor man lives beneath a bridge
I saw him the other day
I walked by, held my breath
scared
hidden in his rags
and bags
and bit of old debris
he peered at me
then turned around
shame was in his eyes
poor man cries beneath a bridge
I heard him the other night
I walked by, the night cold
My heart heavy
I looked at him
sad
his head in hands
his shoulders heaved
broken hearted was he
why
poor man lives beneath a bridge
no longer would I remain—silent
I offered him life
a new beginning
he declined—
sighed
said life is this
every day
he couldn't imagine any other
too much time had passed
poor man dies beneath a bridge
I saw them gathered around
sirens, wail
lights, flash
all that remains
a body, a bag,
a number—
of a poor man living
and dying
beneath a bridge