Beggar Man

You were a gentle soul, with a stained red plaid shirt, hat speckled with bird poop, in saggy-baggy pants that stopped just above two heelless shoes that were see-through to feet with no socks. So many mornings I walked by your corner, putting money in your cup if only to borrow a smile when I had none left of my own. I always knew the one you gave would be the one that found those I had only misplaced for awhile. Countless times we shared a lunch, and so did many others, hot soup from the deli across the street or half a tuna sandwich from home, you shared your wooden pallet but not once a conversation, and all the while, you never missed a beat as you continued to pass out that glorious smile to everyone who sauntered by. I wonder what happened in your life to make you take up residence on that corner, to die cold and alone, the smiles you apportioned your only living legacy. You will be missed by many, even the shopkeepers who so often shooed you away. I hope you knew what you meant to me … and I didn’t even know your name.