With a sign propped in front of his stone seat,
more unheard than residents in graves,
the silent man begged for change.
Black marker scrawled against flimsy cardboard
read; “Change would be appreciated please”
their own thoughts fighting with
city chatter, crinkling bags
and the out of tune orchestra of tapping shoes
while the silent man mingled with the pavement.
Those who did chance to see this muted plea
didn’t break their effortless stride.
Only after, might they wonder,
why the stranger didn’t implore with his mouth.
Beside his frail sign, in a rusty grey tin
a few coppers spread away from each other,
skimming the edge of the mucky bottom,
where they cosily remained.