Yesterday I watched him,
as I have watched him for a long time.
as I have watched him for a long time.
Old now,
and dragging himself more slowly than ever across the cobbles.
and dragging himself more slowly than ever across the cobbles.
Each night, past my gate, out of the city,
clutching whatever meagre coins he's managed to beg,
out to spend the night huddled against the city wall.
clutching whatever meagre coins he's managed to beg,
out to spend the night huddled against the city wall.
Outside with all the other undesirables –
the dung collectors and stinking tanners and sailors
and cursed money lenders and all the rest
who would never be missed if they didn't make it through the night.
the dung collectors and stinking tanners and sailors
and cursed money lenders and all the rest
who would never be missed if they didn't make it through the night.
And back again each morning he comes,
dragging himself back to beg and wait beside that pool.
dragging himself back to beg and wait beside that pool.
As if he had a chance anyhow.
The way he moves, crab-like and crippled,
scrabbling to keep up with the snails,
he has never had a chance of making it into that pool
ahead of anyone.
scrabbling to keep up with the snails,
he has never had a chance of making it into that pool
ahead of anyone.
Not that I've ever paid him much attention mind.
One doesn't pay much attention to the likes of him.
Not until yesterday, that is.