Invisible

This poem was written while living in London, sitting at a small cafe. Looking out of the window I saw what appeared to be a homeless man appear from an ally way. He stoodrocking from one leg to the other, appearing to watch everything and everyone for a number of minutes and the dissappeared back into the ally again and from what I could tell, not a single person other than myself even noticed he was there. A dark figuresteps back and forth, Looming in the mouth of the street, Looking calm with adge of mild confusion, Or maybe just an unanswered question. His off-white colours creased, By days of thoughts that blew in the wind with such precission, Such self assured ease. Almost the essence of bhudda himself. After much consideration he glides away, Not finding the next stage of his quest, Yet not at all phased. Although unanswered his question remained, Part of the darkness he became again.