Do children fantasize about living on the streets when they grow?
Cold and alone under the comfort of a bridge
Dirty and lost
Unable to recognize their own reflection

Beneath the  dirt and stubble once stood a promising young boy
Zesty and silly with the fruits of a life at his footstep

An astronaut he would be
A baseball star to millions
A world traveler with only the wind to guide the sail

On the playground they laugh
Surrounded by friends and the safety of the bubble of youth
Waiting in the wings, proud parents, smiling

They are the future
The promising leaders
The innovative changers
The idea makers
They will make us proud

Now drunk and hungry they lie shivering
Torn clothes found behind a dumpster
The final piece of meat off the bone of a chicken already worked over by a swarm of flies
A wet blanket, their only material possession
The taste of blood off his cut leg his only meal

All they have is time

Time to ponder
Time to regret
Time to forget

Blocking a life gone wrong is not an option
Reality is his enemy
Fierce, raw and filled with pain

The child is gone now
The future is dark

The only rest will come under the nameless tombstone
Void of visitors
Void of love