Waterlogged chair

There in that waterlogged chair.Rocking back and forth,

in the nights traffic trough.

Outstretched smile, 

greeting,

these from the freeway, 

that by you file.

All the while, 

struggling as a human, 

to remain.

Fleshly bones, 

gummed up lips, 

on rainwater you sip.

Not from the tattered coin filled cup,

But the streams,

 rolling from a battered,

 leaking hood.

Hands from parted Windows fling,

small bills and food it seems.

Without looking,

Staring as your reflection,

grows distant.

What would you have me say?

Come stay, work, join me,

Today.

No, in your trial,

We both decry,

Normal conversation,

As my soul,

It cries.

Passing warmly on,

You, waterlogged,

Chair bound.

With my lunches apple,

And a prayer.

Why do I still,

In my heart at you,

Stare?

Why do I care.

A cross blooded,

Rain soaked wood,

And thorns are here.

Because someone,

Someone cared for us,

Cared for us here.

Tears fill my heart,

As you rock back and forth.

There in that waterlogged chair.

WAManning©2016

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