Felix of the Street

 
This poem, a postscript to the poem 'Felix' I wrote many years ago. Felix a tramp, keeps returning.    
   
   
Corrugated walls and rusting nails    
door less, cold and chill    
as any Christmas Day in December.    
Was he a woods man tending    
the smolder of charcoal beneath    
a lid of sods, a manger for his    
being many years ago?    
   
Felix-of-the-street,    
pram and tyreless wheels,    
following since childhood days.    
A herring-bone-coat fraying    
with sun and rain and snow.    
Was the wilderness the same read    
at Sunday school.Your eyes were blue    
and long your hair and grey,    
you left a manger derelict,  sad,
Were you two both the same
omnipresent a trio with Elijah?
Iron corrugations in the wood,    
the wood I call my own    
shared with a dog called Jack.    
   
Have you gone to the wildness    
of the wilderness, sand and sun.    
Elijah? and I did not know.    
Cardboard  case and shuffle-shoes    
were they your Cross?    
Wrote of you many times ago    
memories each day, to    
feel your presence.    
   
Old man, long called Felix    
so long, it seems so long.    
Was that your name?    
Must not say goodbye.    
Where shall we meet? . . . .    
The wildness of the wilderness,?    
space and time, time and space    
questions asked some answered.