Many Years down the Line

For the second time,

Though many years down the line,

I met a man

I had seen before.

This time, he was down and out,

Living on the street,

And looking ghostlike.

Though nonchalant,

By the loss of assets,

In the financial market,

He had gambled and lost.

"It hurts but I am less troubled,

It feels like having less of a load

At the back of my already cluttered mind,"

When asked, he said.

"At least you had something lose to begin with

Before its worthlessness you came to realise." Said I.

Furtherdown, a few blocks away,

I also met another man,

I had known him as a boy,

Who then was full of joy.

Now his face pitted with deep frowns,

He looked reserved,

And at times forlorn.

"Though I now am up on my feet,

And manage to earn extra tranche, a bit;

And at times swing to the sound of financial drum beats,

What I had lost as a child,

For which I did not then have had the feeling to mind,

Has now come home full force with vengeance;

And its impact evermore getting serious than I thought-

When least expected, It hits my chest with a blunt arrow,

And congests my heart with darken sorrow.

All these years I had grown up,

Without reliable hands, when I felt the needs

I could have had borrowed.

And scooped pleasure from the love,

And tender care that I so much missed I could have had - that I know.

And I tasted the bitter reality of this world.

My dad died,

When I was a child.

Long before my feet touched the ground.

The trouble: the hurt goes on

Every time the wound is open."

I nodded before I lowered my tone,

And said I , "my friend you are not alone."