The Sidewalk Dweller

Asleep against a wall,
His life a grateful stall,
The beggar dreams of love.

His cheeks like dirt-vales cry
Of thirst for streams
And a lullaby,
But blessed instead
With sweat-beads running dry,
They sigh and dream of love.

Painful memories of a life
That death has long denied
Flame-like lick
And finger his mind,
But slumber-killed subside
Beneath his dreams of love.

A passion seems to grip the man,
As if he wouldn't let go:
His fists below stick-thin hands
Are curled as eagle-claws
To hold it looks like precious prey,
His elusive dreams of love.

Then of a sudden he is hit
By a gust of stifling dust,
And waking, watches,
With wetness in his eyes,
The road beside him split
With heat and horror screams.

Waken, shaken, his dreams
From him thus taken,
He makes a plea to a passerby
For a morsel, with paper palms,
Which refused, he staggers up
And calls above to the burning sky

For a cloud, and a drop of rain,
To love him some, and cleanse his pain.