Who's Never There

I see a man upon the street,

Dressed in rags, just nothing neat,

And so I pull him to his feet

And give my greatest-ever greet.

He smiles, hollow in his eyes,

I would be the one who cries,

Shares nothing but the truth, no lies,

A humble sadness amidst the flies.

I shake his hand and hold him near,

"I think there's a neat resturant here

He shakes his head and sheds a tear,

"I deservve it not," he says, "I fear."

Understanding not what's said,

The words erringly spin inside my head,

"I have no home and have no bed,

For I won't rest 'till I'm no more dead."
 

He, on a mission does gift me

A sense of pure responsibility,

And I will ever remember he,

A tast of something you'll never see.