"Bum Charlie"

Seen him  picking' upa cigarett

Off the ground mutiple half butts\

He as nothing, but a hobo's life

Nowhere to go 

The night benches the bed

My friend we were once

The memories

How have the years treated you?

Just a question being pondered

Only time thru yours and mine

My mind contemplatess 

The days we were family

Also, the days in the street

Sour, the lives of those whom we know

So many years ago

Apparell very sledom new 

Dry, but no spill or stains

You look nice my lips could say 

From where art you come'th

Questioning alone by myself