The Man on The Bench.

I know that feeling all too well.

The man,
He clutches his sides in agony.
The wind, his body orchestrates a bereaved harmony,
His eyes they turn to the clear blue skies,
solace he pleas, but they're deaf to his cries.

Courage I gathered,
A footstep too soon I faltered,
Our eyes as they meet,
My heart begins to weep.

I bow my head, eyes to my feet,
I hurried on by.
Perhaps I was his answer,
but to this stranger I was shy.