Wait

I sit in a corner of the street,

My beard messy, and nails unclean,

Clothes torn, like a costume from Halloween.

Their eyes scared, follow me all day,

"Careful, a madman." They'd say.

The innocent faces stare at me, being led away

Some are kind enough to offer a treat,

Others pretend I don't exist;

It's been months and years since that day,

I know not how many have passed in wait,

Since they left me here, saying,

"We will come back soon, just stay."

From The Quill