The line of people comes and goes and flows

Across the many colors of our lives —

The circumstantial finding binding all;

The destiny at which no one arrives


Were you a vagrant once? I think you were.

For I was there, and felt your every wince;

The scent of desperation borne of pain

That’s lingered in my conscience ever since


You stepped away and vanished into time,

I tended to my wounded and my wounds;

The line of people interwove it’s way

Through nights and strange prismatic afternoons


And now you find me, homeless, on the street,

From there within your new and heated car:

You barely recognize me in this state,

But though you’ve changed, I still know who you are


You’re sister’s there with you, and I can see

That you’ve not lacked for love in anything,

But though I’ve nothing left to give to you

I offer you this bit of coloring


Beside the lake of rainbows, in a line

Come all who interweave, in their array –

I’m cherishing these moments, now I know

That you, despite the pain, will be


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