The Place Called Home

He walks around
Groping,peering and leering
Eyes half watery
Relentlessly searching
He is visibly invisible
Undoubtedly confounded
His arm outstretched
Tin cup in hand
His other holding
What little remains of his appetite
Trying to prevent it from escaping
Praying maybe
Just maybe
The shroud of poverty
Will raise and the cloud of invisibility
Will disappear

A ray of light breaks through
Touches his face and lights up his eyes
His silent world is shattered
Fractured albeit suddenly
By the sound of a coin
The magnificent sound of a coin hitting the bottom of his cup
He half scrambles to look in
A 40 Shilling coin
He looks up
A hand lays outstretched to him
Beyond is a face
A feminine face
A face he has seen before
A face that gives him joy
He knows this face
But it can’t be
It looks like it can
But it can’t! Surely!
His brain
Enveloped in battle
A Viking like battle with his heart
Tears in river form cascade
The joy
No longer to masquerade
His daughter!
She who he held dear
Come with me
Says she
Too long have you been lost
Bearing cost have I searched
Home we should go
For my father I have found at last
Into the waiting car did they go
Back to the place called Home…