Welfare Fare-Well

 
“Only temporary,” he said,
of his step down,
remembering my face
from his hometown
 
The life he now lives
with dole on the street,
worn clothes, long hair and cap,
making ends meet
          ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
We both moved to X-town
when his family house was bare
and this Prodigal then started 
on all that needed care
 
I’d walk and see a half-made hedge
of berries reaching sun,
but those he left unfinished
before the row was done
 
He dug the carpet of the lawn
and moved some piles of stones
then left the earth disrupted
and tools like heaps of bones
 
 Ramshackle work, neglected,
– some said this man took dope, 
lost, confused, perplexing,
till finally – no hope
 
I heard the neighbors’ gossip
of this man who lived near me,
he “Sold it for a million,”
this house which viewed the sea
          ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Once more, I’m in the city,
winter’s cold has come,
he has coffee for his comfort,
café, instead of home
 
And, “Only temporary,”
perhaps is what  he’ll say
the next time that I meet him
on a farther-down day
 
But, since we aren’t acquainted,
there’s nothing more to try
except to say a silent prayer
each time I pass him by
                                                                        (2020s)