To the people who don’t have a home…

Somewhere, someone is looking down worried and sad, watching their brother, cousin, old classmate, grandfather- make his bed on the streets during this sunset. As his body molds into the cement ledge underneath the bridge, i question whether I should stop and cover his slightly showing toes. I know somewhere, someone is leaving him notes of hope, warmth and love and pulling a cap over his ears as he slowly drifts to sleep. I pray he sees these messages in the sky; his multiple angels; his forever second set of eyes. He isn’t alone. it’s just cloudy tonight.