-Injured Hawk
The hand that drifts, Accompanies the feet that step. For the man who sits, Is the desperate eagle. Ignored by all, with his wartime medal. Seen along the streets, Trapped inside a box, With only rags and cleats.
He reaches out, hat on crooked, begging dollars about. No one glances. For all the humiliation, His eyes, They hopelessly shed, that one last chance, dream of desperation.
And now as an outcast, He clings to his only memberance. That of when he fought your war. Proud and mislead, You seem to have forgotten him, while inside your peaceful summertime trance.

Previous Next

All Works © 1998, 1999 Joseph John