After seeing a homeless man in London sitting in a doorway with an old creased photograph, staring at it as if trying to find himself.
There but not there
Overexposed
A photograph
Faded by time
Etched by pain
Only faint lines left
Where hope somehow clung
Defying the torments
A glimpse in the mist
Of dreams unspoken
A hint in the midst
Of promises broken
And in that picture
So often folded, unfolded
Forgotten, remembered
But never discarded
Was there a dream still burning
A prayer that all that was
Could be again
