Title Still To Be Determined

The passing bodies look down at him
Their gaze so dark and grim,
Holding his weathered hands palms up
Waiting for the coins to rattle his cup,
The ocassional rattle is heard
Lifting his head "thanks" his one spoken word,
Looking to the ground in shame
Others pass as though he is playing a game,
A soft voice pierces into his ear
"Hey Mister? may I sit here?",
With a look of shame he looks to move
Not making eye contact he scoots,
"No" Speaks this soft thundering voice
"Tell me, are you here by choice? ",
The weather beaten man looks up slowly
"A child asks him this honestly?",
Gulping for words gazing into ocean blue eyes
Watching those pass wearing neckties,
"It may not look like it but I don't mind where I am"
"I do what I do, when and how I can",
The child smiles ear to ear holding his hand
"Mister, you are always welcome on my land",
The child puts the mans hand against his chest
"Keep it here and never astray, in bequest"
The man chokes up, tears rolling down his face
"Thank you my son" the man speaks with grace
A mother shouts "Get away from him"
Standing and giving a hug to him,
"Thanks for the chat Mister"
 
Looking into his hand tightly against his chest
A letter to Dad?
Tears flood down his face and a smile grows
He is and that was?
His only son, and his son now knows