In the cold of winters dusk with the snow blowing into his face

The old man looked into the darkness under the pier

With his old rheumy eyes, starring out of a weather beaten face

Thinking of how far he had fallen into his personal hell, just to end up here

In the space of fifteen years, to go from comfortable middle class

To contemplating finding a dry patch of sand under a pier

Getting thinner and sicker every year

Aging three years for every twelve months that pass

Next day as the kids are playing they find a bundle of rags

Rolling back and forth with each wave

The parents investigate and raise the alarm

Another anonymous homeless man no identification, another victim of poverty

Too proud to ask for help

Too sick to survive

Too desperate to make good choices

Too homeless to vote too poor for government to care