Changing Faces
Each time I drive to Haltom City,
to pick up Vietnamese food,
as I park I see
homeless sitting on the curb.
There is one always present,
a living fixture on the mall,
sitting with feet stretched out,
over by the auto parts store.
Sometimes there is only one,
other times it's a group.
Young and old, their faces change,
drift like fallen leaves.
Always looking weary,
tired, weathered, hungry.
There never seems to be an end,
constant changing of the guard.
They are the outsiders,
street dwellers on the fringe.
Thinking what led to this?
What put them in this place?
But as I buy my fried noodles,
I give a dollar on my way.
As I drive I know,
we shall meet another time.
My only hope is they'll get help,
make it through the lonely night.