Tag Archives: a poem about a man dying in the snow

There’s a man name Civility, slowly being covered in snow. Slowly, the snow melts on tattered, stained, woolens in dark colors, holes in his shoes. Walkers pass him by, some glance at him, while others see a lump of cloths. Civility struggles to sit up, and bids them a hello, a good morning, a goodContinue reading “Man In the Gutter”